We are all adrift.
Anyway, this isn’t about that. Yet.
It’s about water. In general. Saline and fresh.
The life giving liquid. For the carbon based, at least.
This carbon based life-form feels there is nothing more comforting
than a long, warm bath, in this wonder we call water.
In an unscientific sense, it brings relief and washes away the cares of the day.
It’s just relaxing. Water in general. Whether it be an ocean, river, lake, pond, pool or raining down upon us and forming puddles. To jump and play in. To enjoy.
To nourish. And appreciate, for without it, we are lost.
Dead and dried out.
Just stark and barren waste.
It, water, makes up at least 50% of our bodies.
Some of it leaks out. Through the skin, lungs and so forth to remove impurities.
So therefore is in constant need of replenishing.
It leaks out of my eyes quite often. Besides just keeping those ocular spheres moist.
It is from where we crawled forth. That primeval source.
Not tears. Well maybe. They are saline, too.
When we were aquatic, and when in prebirth.
Maybe that is why I love water so much.
Maybe I didn’t want to be born. Return anymore.
Liquid represents the safety of the womb.
Nine months is a long time.
Yet we never drowned.
Or did we?
Was that first gasp of air also our doom?
Was that spark of energy always there, or does your
mother share a part of hers?
Or were we originally a form of energy, in the beginning, having lost all memory of that before?
And all those befores thereafter?
Just entering at the point of conception?
When born in the physical, we can’t even take care of ourselves.
We are totally helpless, not like other animals.
We are reliant. We are born reliant. Doesn’t that mean we need one another
as we progress?
Those other memories, of the befores, probably remain, just inaccessible
except for moments when certain things slip through the blockade.
Those things we can’t explain.
Those moments of déjà vu.
In the very end, which might be simply another transition (or not), perhaps
it all comes flowing back. The pasts. The meaning of life.
For one brief shining moment.
Like how they say your entire life flashes before you at that ending.
Maybe they all come flooding back. The deluge of our lives. All of them.
At least what you want to recall. Or need to.
That which was important and had significance.
I want to believe in this. I want to believe in a lot of things,
like love is not just a myth,
but for now, all we know is finality of the body.
That the death of that is assured.
The only actual assured thing about physical life.
What happened to water?