Pressure Principle
A second fly-by the metaphorical, cosmic snack table. A bike ride before meeting the water.
Today's miles are faster. Effortless, even. I travel past yesterday's forest, the superfluous swamp, and past new housing developments that (at this rate) will raze and replace most of the wild beauty with pre-fab ninety-degree angle matchstick multi-use profit-generators. These future homes, at least they go upward instead of devouring all of the surrounding horizontal space. Maybe those homes will be filled with people who grow to love the area and fight to protect what's left.
The paved path leads to the limestone trails of a state park. Mostly, the park offers routes through forests in various stages of death and renewal. You can bear witness to the cycles of an ecosystem without having to spend your whole life on the frontier. There's a sense of unease as I pass the slash pine. It's like walking through a herd of grazing giraffes that are all facing the same direction. But these trees were planted by humans. They've grown into unnatural corridors of nature. This wild flora is arranged in patterns of symmetry and triangulated distances, and they're all the same age and relative height. It's as if that herd of giraffes isn't only just facing the same direction, they keep the same distance between each other without looking up, roving across the fields as one massive grid.
-
Boardwalks appeal to the six-year old in me, implementing simple engineering concepts to achieve the magical state of levitation over treacherous environments. The six-year old in me also appreciates the hollow rattling sound as the bike tires glides over the tops of the wooden sun-bleached ribs.
~ ~
Raiding the cosmic snack table is over. It's time to face the water.
Ten years ago, a former partner and I spent almost every scarce moment we had together during the summer seeking out as many bodies of water in and out of the city. At one public pool, we witnessed a swimming lesson in which the teacher would loudly instruct the children, floating about with every manner of inflatable devices, to "Face the water!" At that command, each of the kids would hold their breaths and then slam their heads down through the surface of the pool. We couldn't help but be delighted by the kids' earnest obeyance, splashing their faces with all the force they could muster. They would destroy the calm surface water with the most precious part of their human form; a blend of innocence and elemental violence for educational purposes.
Each passing year that I come here, I face the water in my own way. There's a type of reckoning that only comes from abandoning myself to the massive forces of fluid dynamics. It's the closest analogue to consulting an oracle. But each passing year, the water accrues more depth of meaning.
Just a few steps within the waves, a stingray glided up toward me and the slipped away, silently breezing past an unknowing child wearing arm floaties. I wasn't even half submerged, and I was already meeting the locals.
I swam out to the valleys and fields, the ever-changing topography of a mesmerizing and incomprehensible force. Here is where I remembered finding solace six years ago.
That year had been intense. A series of events that felt both pivotal and massive. I’m still taking into account the changes that have rippled out from that plummet. I remembered being in these same waters (as much as they can be the same waters). I remember being drawn out past the sand bar, where pockets of cold water portend an endless abyss; a calming dissolution of joy, sense, and sorrow. I remember thinking in metaphors. I longed for that time of change, of emotive upheaval for something different. I craved the demolition that gets reconstruction--
Something moved in my periphery. I thought it was a second friend. Within the millisecond of my side-eyed glance, I saw a manatee standing and offering me a cigarette. But when that millisecond passed, a more full-eyed glance revealed to me that there was not in fact a manatee standing and offering me a cigarette. What I did see was a human couple embracing and kissing.
I heard someone say, “Blech,” and realized it was me--that's apparently my involuntary reaction to couples displaying their affection. I then turned toward the origins of the waves and swam toward the darkness. There's an edge of the human realm where wildlife flourish and seaweed amass. Here, everything operates under unfamiliar terms. This was the solace from six years ago.
It was like returning to a fantasy world that still exists but the traveler has changed. The waters didn’t pull as hard. I wasn’t surrounded by fish bellies and diving pelicans. This time, I sensed the pressure, how the water applied more pressure to the vessel of my body than the air. It sounds stupid in its simplicity but I sensed, I felt how the water presses against every submerged surface and pushes and constricts, and in a very natural and unmalicious way, reveals the weakest point in any structure. A squeeze until a pop. Out here, the colder waves felt denser, applying even more pressure upon the surface of my body. I could sense the weakness in my body, in my right leg, as if the water were offering insight as an unmalicious observation by an expert.
But the coldness gripped my right leg and infiltrated the bone. This was an inquiry. This was a warning. This was a commandment that pressed even further inward past bones and into definitions of self. My right leg was the burned branch of a tree. It was the detached crows foot clutching onto an electrical wire. The commandment moved through me and said:
You must address this before you can address me.
I didn't hear the words as much as I felt them and intuited them through some primal language of interaction between agents and environments. The water's attention moved onto other objects. I was no longer under spiritual scrutiny. I was merely adrift in the regular world of physics. It was like having a two second therapy session with a counselor who suddenly concludes the time by standing to leave and says, 'You can use my office for as long as you like,' before closing the door.
~ ~
Apocalyptic weather in appearance alone...
... might have destroyed the familiarity of Earth and left an alien landscape in its wake.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
((( O ))) - iFeel (ft. French Kiwi Juice)
[Listen on youtube]
((( O ))) - iFeel (ft. French Kiwi Juice)
Try to find you, but you're lost
Around the waves I should've stayed, but
I still feel you through the ground, I
Walk on barefoot, but I stand, I
Feel much more than what I planned
I feel much more than what I planned
I feel
I feel much more than what I planned
I keep waiting, constant changing
Emotion waves crashing on me
Faster heart-rate, I'm in no shape
For a nine-foot wave to take me
Under sideways, further closer
To a piece I didn't even know
Was missing
I didn't even know was missing
I'm missing you
I'm missing a piece of me I didn't even know was missing
I'm missing you
I'm missing a piece of me I didn't even
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Today's miles are faster. Effortless, even. I travel past yesterday's forest, the superfluous swamp, and past new housing developments that (at this rate) will raze and replace most of the wild beauty with pre-fab ninety-degree angle matchstick multi-use profit-generators. These future homes, at least they go upward instead of devouring all of the surrounding horizontal space. Maybe those homes will be filled with people who grow to love the area and fight to protect what's left.
The paved path leads to the limestone trails of a state park. Mostly, the park offers routes through forests in various stages of death and renewal. You can bear witness to the cycles of an ecosystem without having to spend your whole life on the frontier. There's a sense of unease as I pass the slash pine. It's like walking through a herd of grazing giraffes that are all facing the same direction. But these trees were planted by humans. They've grown into unnatural corridors of nature. This wild flora is arranged in patterns of symmetry and triangulated distances, and they're all the same age and relative height. It's as if that herd of giraffes isn't only just facing the same direction, they keep the same distance between each other without looking up, roving across the fields as one massive grid.
-
Boardwalks appeal to the six-year old in me, implementing simple engineering concepts to achieve the magical state of levitation over treacherous environments. The six-year old in me also appreciates the hollow rattling sound as the bike tires glides over the tops of the wooden sun-bleached ribs.
~ ~
Raiding the cosmic snack table is over. It's time to face the water.
Ten years ago, a former partner and I spent almost every scarce moment we had together during the summer seeking out as many bodies of water in and out of the city. At one public pool, we witnessed a swimming lesson in which the teacher would loudly instruct the children, floating about with every manner of inflatable devices, to "Face the water!" At that command, each of the kids would hold their breaths and then slam their heads down through the surface of the pool. We couldn't help but be delighted by the kids' earnest obeyance, splashing their faces with all the force they could muster. They would destroy the calm surface water with the most precious part of their human form; a blend of innocence and elemental violence for educational purposes.
Each passing year that I come here, I face the water in my own way. There's a type of reckoning that only comes from abandoning myself to the massive forces of fluid dynamics. It's the closest analogue to consulting an oracle. But each passing year, the water accrues more depth of meaning.
Just a few steps within the waves, a stingray glided up toward me and the slipped away, silently breezing past an unknowing child wearing arm floaties. I wasn't even half submerged, and I was already meeting the locals.
I swam out to the valleys and fields, the ever-changing topography of a mesmerizing and incomprehensible force. Here is where I remembered finding solace six years ago.
That year had been intense. A series of events that felt both pivotal and massive. I’m still taking into account the changes that have rippled out from that plummet. I remembered being in these same waters (as much as they can be the same waters). I remember being drawn out past the sand bar, where pockets of cold water portend an endless abyss; a calming dissolution of joy, sense, and sorrow. I remember thinking in metaphors. I longed for that time of change, of emotive upheaval for something different. I craved the demolition that gets reconstruction--
Something moved in my periphery. I thought it was a second friend. Within the millisecond of my side-eyed glance, I saw a manatee standing and offering me a cigarette. But when that millisecond passed, a more full-eyed glance revealed to me that there was not in fact a manatee standing and offering me a cigarette. What I did see was a human couple embracing and kissing.
I heard someone say, “Blech,” and realized it was me--that's apparently my involuntary reaction to couples displaying their affection. I then turned toward the origins of the waves and swam toward the darkness. There's an edge of the human realm where wildlife flourish and seaweed amass. Here, everything operates under unfamiliar terms. This was the solace from six years ago.
It was like returning to a fantasy world that still exists but the traveler has changed. The waters didn’t pull as hard. I wasn’t surrounded by fish bellies and diving pelicans. This time, I sensed the pressure, how the water applied more pressure to the vessel of my body than the air. It sounds stupid in its simplicity but I sensed, I felt how the water presses against every submerged surface and pushes and constricts, and in a very natural and unmalicious way, reveals the weakest point in any structure. A squeeze until a pop. Out here, the colder waves felt denser, applying even more pressure upon the surface of my body. I could sense the weakness in my body, in my right leg, as if the water were offering insight as an unmalicious observation by an expert.
But the coldness gripped my right leg and infiltrated the bone. This was an inquiry. This was a warning. This was a commandment that pressed even further inward past bones and into definitions of self. My right leg was the burned branch of a tree. It was the detached crows foot clutching onto an electrical wire. The commandment moved through me and said:
You must address this before you can address me.
I didn't hear the words as much as I felt them and intuited them through some primal language of interaction between agents and environments. The water's attention moved onto other objects. I was no longer under spiritual scrutiny. I was merely adrift in the regular world of physics. It was like having a two second therapy session with a counselor who suddenly concludes the time by standing to leave and says, 'You can use my office for as long as you like,' before closing the door.
~ ~
Apocalyptic weather in appearance alone...
... might have destroyed the familiarity of Earth and left an alien landscape in its wake.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
((( O ))) - iFeel (ft. French Kiwi Juice)
[Listen on youtube]
((( O ))) - iFeel (ft. French Kiwi Juice)
Try to find you, but you're lost
Around the waves I should've stayed, but
I still feel you through the ground, I
Walk on barefoot, but I stand, I
Feel much more than what I planned
I feel much more than what I planned
I feel
I feel much more than what I planned
I keep waiting, constant changing
Emotion waves crashing on me
Faster heart-rate, I'm in no shape
For a nine-foot wave to take me
Under sideways, further closer
To a piece I didn't even know
Was missing
I didn't even know was missing
I'm missing you
I'm missing a piece of me I didn't even know was missing
I'm missing you
I'm missing a piece of me I didn't even
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~