Watery

Okay, I’ve a half hour to compose this post, as there are two appointments lined up for me today – including psychiatrist who had two weeks to review 12 years of case history.

I can recall two times when my life was in mortal danger, age seven and age twenty-seven. The first involves the ocean, and for a long time, I feared water. You see, for three years in early childhood, I had continuous visions and dreams of an island city engulfed by raging waters. Nightmares would haunt me for years on end following this, and while I don’t claim I was seeing Atlantis or whatnot, the experiences were powerful. Especially when those I came to love were killed off.

Then I hit age seven, where I would have my own near fatal encounter with the sea.

Trinidad and Tobago, my birth country, particularly the island of Trinidad. At Mayaro Beach, lifeguards are on careful watch and mark where it’s safe to swim with brightly coloured flags, lest you be caught by a riptide. But this was the mid-90s, I can’t recall if there were flags or a lifeguard. I just remember a grandmother and me, and maybe a small scattering of other folk bathing in the early morning.

One of my favourite activities was playing mermaid. I went into deeper water, because it’s easier to pretend to be a mermaid when your feet aren’t quite touching the bottom. However, the undercurrent caught me. I was dragged along the sand, rubbing my legs raw. Next thing I knew, and this is the part I hesitate to reveal, I felt someone embrace me and lift me to the surface. Waves crashed all around my head, and I ended up on the beach. My legs were roughened up, body sore and aching, head pounding, coughed up seawater. Despite all of that, someone invisible took hold of my forearm and up I went, got up and walked to where that relative was searching for me.

I really shouldn’t say “someone.” I’d recognize that signature in nearly any context, and can put a name to him. Yet I’m not going to argue for the existence of angels, just relate to you about my life and musings.

Therapist noted that water, particularly the ocean, is a prominent theme in my life. For me, water has been creative and destructive. Water renewed my hope for 25 years when all else failed to sustain me, water took away my first sanctuary. From the paradigm of therapist, the ocean represents the unconscious. Later on, I’ll pull a vision from May 31st, 2016 to post on this blog, and speculate.

I was told that submission and softness is power for me. I’d get the Biblical verse but I’m running out of time to compose this entry. I was asked to read all of Romans 12, which helped me to see that submission and softness is powerful, in the sense that giving into God’s will allows Him to act through me.

Like water…

Water is associated with the chalice in some traditions. I used to think that was too receptive, but there’s more to it. Things pool together in a chalice and change, to transform into something else. Temperance, the tarot card that my birth corresponds to, portrays an angel holding two chalices and pouring water from one to another. One foot on land, the other in water.

“Water of my water….water, you are of water.”

It’s the track left behind by the unstoppable flow of time
in the map of the future we envisioned together.

+ Megurine Luka, “Kokoro, yurayura”
++ Translation by Hazuki no Yume @ Vocaloid Lyrics Wiki

Aaah, time’s past up, need to prepare for appointments! 😮


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