At an early age I had learned to swim. By the age of 5 or 6 I already learned to swim in the deep end of our family pool. Beneath there was peace, an infinite hug. All was quiet but not quiet, since some sounds seemed amplified.
Fast forward to my teenage years, I loved to go to the lake with my dad. One of my most favorite things to do was to go fish with him. I absolutely loved being in that environment. I've always had a love for bodies of water.
In my college years I would go on to paint the room in my parents' house blue like the ocean, with a dark, almost black, blue sky above. Adorned on my walls are more ocean imagery: A tropical sunset, a tropical reef teeming with ocean life, and an islander village with a mountain stream flowing through it. It's like I re-created my own peaceful ocean of water to surround me, to comfort me.
And in more recent times, water seems to be a consistent theme in many of my dreams. Water and fish are frequent visitors of mine while in the dream state. In a short poem I wrote not long ago, I had used crashing water as a way to symbolize my efforts to reach, but come tumbling down: The realm of the sky is only touched by the water of clouds.
A concept of Introversion I had come up with also contained water: Swimming the depths and exploring a reservoir of water, while deepening it as well. A concept of equanimity I thought of also has to do with water: deepening the well so much, that surface perturbations do not disturb overall equanimity. Another concept of being in the grip, I describe it as a tidal wave that leaves me totally wiped out. It's a destructive force that can bring new life, as well as destroy life and relationships.
It seems water will continue to be with me in so much that I do... It's a personal symbol that I should probably learn to more fully embrace, as I swim along with the kraken and monsters of the deep.
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