It is a tumultuous time under here; below the surface where everything appears to be calm, the current is strong. Beneath the smiles and the occasional cries you may witness, lies a dynamic, a wrestling of thoughts that will not necessarily resolve themselves. It borders on a criss of identity, a crisis of certainty.
A crisis though, suggests there has been a time of peace — but when such a time doesn’t exist this situation can be better described as a perma-crisis. It is a crisis in confidence, a crisis born from the melted shackles of certainty, it is a crisis that leads one’s being to roam like a ship riding waves without an anchor, without a horizon. A ship without purpose, one that simply exists; built upon the shoulders of others but now left free to roam the open seas.
The further this boat goes and the more miles it covers, the waves look the same but the stronger they get, the darker the blue and the deeper the water goes. I cannot see my reflection in the water anymore — how can I know that it is me out there?
There’s no captain on this boat, there’s no crew on onboard; no one is steering me to safety even though I am not necessarily facing any danger, other than the threat of existing.
I am a man lost at sea, staring ahead searching the vast horizon that expands without a clear end in sight. The winds are strong, carrying me across the waves at pace. This ocean is a vast unpredictable beast that cares nothing for human law or divine morality. It just is. It is freedom in its purest state; freedom to roam, to curse, to sin. It is the freedom to live and the freedom to die.
Out here, there is no civilisation, no safety net, no amenities and no currencies, it is just a battle ground for the human spirit. I remain on the boat, leading it towards the unknown, determined to keep a balance as the waves of consciousness grow stronger.