At The Mercy of The Sea?

Am I a sailor on a ship, bound, and at the mercy of the sea or am I the sea itself?

I find myself depressed, anxiously racing to contain, understand, and manipulate the choices of this 3 pound mass of tissue, closed between the ears of this “great” ape. But it always seems to escape my grasp.

It is New Years Eve and I find a heaviness begin to weigh on my body. Knots of tension are forming around the base of my neck and temples. My jaw is clenching and this thing we call “sadness” seems to be exposing itself. An emptiness; a longing; self-pity; darkness; anger. These feelings which I have come to conceive as so self-evident, mundane, irritating, and superficial. Yet, expressions of something so much more profound. And it happens so suddenly, without consent and without forewarning.

The mind’s inter-connective neuronal system producing, integrating, and firing at rates beyond my conceptual capacity: 220 miles per hour, down the superhighway way we call the spinal cord, hundreds of times per second (and that is a single neuronal pathway). 160 trillion neuronal connections, having evolved slowly (and then maniacally) from the most ancient of life forms, 4 billion years ago.

A blueprint of life has been laid out for me. Stories of my ancestors are coded in information that this brain somehow knows but “I” have such little understanding.

And somehow, here I am, on a bamboo dance floor, with champagne being sprayed onto my head, surrounded by beautiful, attractive women and two friends that truly care about me.

Yet a signal tells me that I am no different than the black haired, long faced man rubbing his body next to any women who seems to gaze his way; Signals telling me to be enraged and jealous at my new friend who has found someone to love; Signals telling me that nobody wants to be around me; Signals reminding me that everyone else got a New Years kiss; Signals telling me that my life is not worth living.

Running! Sprinting! I can never catch up.

But why is it that I need to catch up to this 3 pound mass of hyper-intelligent tissue? Why is it that “I” feel separate from this system; isn’t that system what makes me, me? Why do I feel like an observer to the thing that produces my capacity for observation?

And I stand there. Sad, restless, and full of self pity, I watch it all happen.. But at the pace and with the mindset that this brain allows me to observe it.

And I ask myself if I have the capacity to change?

And as I breathe, time appears to slow.

Muscles begin to soften, the breathe becomes deeper, and the thoughts a little sweeter. Signals telling me that she did give me a hug; signals allowing me to feel happy that he is experiencing a moment of connection; signals sending compassion towards my own anxieties; signals telling me that life is worth living.

And I stand here, watching it all happen: but only at the pace and with the mindset that this brain allows me to observe it.

And so I ask myself again: Am I a sailor on a ship, bound, and at the mercy of the sea or am I the sea itself?