I heard this on the radio this morning while getting dressed for work, “…tied to a rock on the ocean’s floor…” It created such vivid imagery, sadness and for some reason, an understanding for some poor soul’s personal bondage… that must have been what the songwriter was trying to convey, I think. What a beautiful song, I thought. While listening I couldn’t help but to fantasize about a friend of mine, Randi. Not that being tied to an ocean bed floor is how I see our friendship–it’s quite the opposite—the metaphor pretty much represents my state of mind prior to meeting her, and I can’t clearly pinpoint the exact location on our friendship timeline where I begin experiencing this shift. I’m just grateful that it took place because it definitely felt as if I had been tied to a rock on the ocean’s floor… deprived of oxygen, sunlight, human interaction… waiting for something to occur… a shift in the ocean’s current, a cosmic or tectonic plate disturbance… something. But instead of some natural occurrence, something more personal took place. I had an encounter with a beautiful mermaid.
I was so captivated by her beauty it never occurred to me that she could be the key to my freedom. She had her own things to tend to. Besides, why would such a beautiful creature spend time with someone like me? After all, I’m weighed down by a rock, trapped, unable to roam in her domain. I was lucky to have even been in her presence because mermaids are rare creatures, right? There’s an old metaphysical teaching that speaks of the idea that things, people, situations all show up in our lives to teach use lessons. Having Randi there made me forget about my circumstance. We sat, talked and philosophized about everything imaginable. I have to admit that being with such a beautiful creature made me a little insecure. Would she like me? Would I even know how to interact with her? After all, she’s a mermaid and I’ve been sitting here rotting away at the bottom of the ocean for nearly 14 years. She had some pretty amazing things to say about me, and I’m sure she had no idea what they were doing for me.
After some time I was able to move around with her with extreme ease, and then all of a sudden I noticed that we had surfaced… and she looked so beautiful, absolutely stunning… even more so out of water. It seems as if the more time I spend with her, the more beautiful and pure she becomes. She’s definitely an amazing person, and easy to talk to. She possess the coolest qualities any mortal man would die for… she’s smart, mysterious, and sexy… in such a unique way there aren’t even words to describe. So, there we were, floating on the surface of the water.
“Will you stay,” I asked. She simply looked at me, smiled and swam off. “I would hate to lose this amazing creature,” I thought to myself. Just then she slid up from behind and embraced me… whispering in my ear, “No one can ever stay… simply enjoy each moment they have to give.” And I knew in that instant why she had appeared, why she chose to spend time with me. And it wasn’t necessarily to rescue me from some rock or internal state of being. In fact, the rock was still attached to me when we surfaced. It was her sheer presence, beauty and energy that changed my internal state, creating enough buoyancy from within to lift me and the rock.
When I snapped back from my great fantasy, I knew better not to view my friendship with Randi with traditional words and concepts. How can one lose something if they’ve never possessed it in the first place? Ownership… how in the hell can someone own another human being. “My wife/husband,” my “girlfriend/boyfriend” … those words are so ingrained in our modern day lexicon no one stops to think about what it means, deconstruct it’s origin. When did that whole ownership shit start anyway? It’s very idiosyncratic. I know I would definitely drive her away if I used those traditional frameworks to view our friendship. We’ve had conversations in the past about expectations in life regarding marriage and romantic relationships… how they were pretty much constructed by society at one point in history to benefit a certain ideology. And what I’ve taken away from those conversations was the sense that she has no desire to adhere to such structures… and the ironic thing about it is that I feel the same way, although falling “in love” with her would be extremely easy. I simply want to bask in her beauty, her sexiness, and in her conversations. Tomorrow isn’t for anyone to plan for. Yes, we make preparation for the things we must do to survive, but it really isn’t promised. So I hope that she’ll resurface every once in a while for conversation. I can’t wait to explore her mind while getting lost in the idea of suspending time and expanding consciousness.
She’s definitely my muse because there’s no way I would have been able to express this and actually feel my creative juices flowing again while being tied to a rock at the bottom of the sea. Metaphor or not, I’m glad to have encountered this beautiful creature.