The Ocean

In the depth of my despair, when everything I thought I knew about myself felt like a lie, the only image that brought relief was a fantasy of being consumed by the ocean. I didn’t recognize at the time the significance of this beautifully morbid longing, to swim deep into the sea, to completely surrender, and to let her consume me whole. The vision felt like home, like comfort, like freedom. It wasn’t death that called to me, but surrender itself, the release, the consumption, the letting go of control.

The year that followed became a fast and furious unraveling of self-realizations crashing in, patterns dissolving, false stories, beliefs, and judgments washing away. It was a year of learning to trust myself, to live in truth, to root in unwavering self-acceptance.

Exactly one year after those profound fantasies of surrender, I found myself in a freedom I never imagined possible. Worshipping the ocean, entranced by her lessons. In her flow I saw the teaching of life itself. The movements of consciousness, release, and surrender of ego into the vast current of being.

One year later I’d recognize the significance of those fantasies.