The Color of Space & Time

San Francisco/Cayucos - Double Exposure

July 2019

I would be stopped at an intersection, observing the rush of the cross traffic, pondering over the small ways in which the world moves about--being no more remarkable than the bowl of fruit that sits on a kitchen table.  That is when something catches me on the inside.  Disrupts the ebb and flow.  It does not take much.  Maybe a thought.  An image.  A sentence.  Someone across the way.  Reminders.  From a distance, I see the water beginning to stir.  A wave is approaching, one with which I am all too familiar.  I know it by the particular tension it emits, a tension that seizes the body and refuses to let go.  Alas, there is no breaking free of it.

So I oblige.  I make room for the crash as the wave gains momentum.  Sometimes, the process lasts a week.  If the stars are in my favor, the wave breaks after several days.  During this period, I swim in perpetual night.  Time continues to march on while I live in ages past. 

I often wonder if the universe is upset with me.  If, perhaps, I have committed some unforgivable sin that justifies the haunting ruminations and recurring memories, which are saturated and riddled with yearning. 

I look out into the ocean and marvel at her unparalleled, unyielding beauty.  It is a strange truth to know that while this endless mass of water harbors millions of living organisms within her, she holds the sovereign power and ability to swallow anything. 

The waves are merely her taskmasters, your wave merely my own.

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