The Coast of Contradictions
Only at the ocean, at the locks of Mother Nature’s temperamental tresses, can I get in touch with my emotions. Maybe it’s the consistency and cadence, of the ebb and flow, or the balance of trough and crest, such a magical metaphor, an eternal statement of truth, balance and beauty, the making of dreams. It’s believed by many that life originated from water, the salty depths of Neptune’s palace. Maybe this is the reason human beings who are in their means; migrate towards the palace each year. I feel an umbilical pull towards her, a yearning each year to be in her awesome presence, to prostrate on her golden shore, to greet her waves, to indulge in her breath. Mine is an infatuation, a passionate vogue.
I’m on my yearly migration to my summer grazing spot, the coast of contradictions. As my herd travels, we make stops every three hours to graze and refresh ourselves before we undertake our journey once again. I come from a grumbling herd of animals; the first hour we spend together of the journey, is longer than we’ve spent together in the last six months or so. Once again our alpha male and female are vying for the spot of group leader. The herd juniors taking key from the elders, start brawling, our animalistic instincts are inherited, and the genes of violence, pettiness and animalism win once again. In the eternal debate between nature and nurture, nature earns a brownie point.
Whenever I am a guest at Neptune’s citadel, I have an odd superstitious ritual. I walk towards her my hands at my sides, slightly apart. I walk straight towards the ocean’s bosom, without flinching at the cool water. It’s something deeply religious for me, deeply spiritual for me. I feel like it’s my connection with a power, power so awesome it causes this closed system of Life to occur. A Power of balance and majesty. It replaces the space of common ritualistic religion with a sort of connection. A sort of inner understanding of my place, my life in comparison to the world, the wild wind of change and destiny we call home, we call life.
I have arrived at the summer migration grounds, and it is time for us to adorn ourselves to attract mates, summer is the time when most human mating occurs. Many of the older members of the herd mate their original mates, but this fact is not really what interests me. It is the young members of the herd who are in search of their mates that are a matter of interest to me. The males seemed to have caught on to a mating trend of shedding most of their fur, but that of the tops of their heads. This fur they style in upward sorts. They also cover their eyes with dark reflective material. They tend to dress in small coverings in various designs made of synthetic material which cover the body from the bottom of the waist to various lengths around the knee. The females remove all fur except for that on the tops of their heads; they dress in odd outfits that cover their breasts and crotch area (which resemble 3 triangular shapes of material). They often were these outfits in bright colors to attract the male eye. The males often do mock physical activities to attract females, while females chatter in loud high pitched chants to attract male attention.
It is solely at the ocean that I can become in touch with my emotions. I seem to just let them build up, and the ocean seems to iron out all the tensions and stresses. I think it’s probably the reliability of the ocean and her waves that attracts me, unlike the land of metamorphosis, the raging rat race of existence. My tears flow easily when I’m at the ocean, when the waves wash over me, cleaning my soul. It is at the ocean I question myself, it is at my yearly migration I’m able to put myself into perspective. I felt like I was a jarhead in the Iraqi war, a distant nobody fighting a battle that I knew was worthless. I felt like I was a mere spectator in my life, a bystander a forgotten face at the meandering mall of life. What have I achieved for my life? What do I have to show? I question, I seek through the silky sand for answers to my philosophy. And like the exfoliating properties of the sand, I break away from the dead emotion; I shed the old to reveal a new me, a new beginning, a new chapter.
Take a trip to the coast of contradictions next holiday season, and after you graze and herd, take leave from the mundane. Take a lonely trip down to Neptune’s palace and other then the wonders of Mother Nature’s luminescent tresses, you might just find yourself.
Just some weird, abstract, random food for thought,
Peace
hoosain khan
Only at the ocean, at the locks of Mother Nature’s temperamental tresses, can I get in touch with my emotions. Maybe it’s the consistency and cadence, of the ebb and flow, or the balance of trough and crest, such a magical metaphor, an eternal statement of truth, balance and beauty, the making of dreams. It’s believed by many that life originated from water, the salty depths of Neptune’s palace. Maybe this is the reason human beings who are in their means; migrate towards the palace each year. I feel an umbilical pull towards her, a yearning each year to be in her awesome presence, to prostrate on her golden shore, to greet her waves, to indulge in her breath. Mine is an infatuation, a passionate vogue.
I’m on my yearly migration to my summer grazing spot, the coast of contradictions. As my herd travels, we make stops every three hours to graze and refresh ourselves before we undertake our journey once again. I come from a grumbling herd of animals; the first hour we spend together of the journey, is longer than we’ve spent together in the last six months or so. Once again our alpha male and female are vying for the spot of group leader. The herd juniors taking key from the elders, start brawling, our animalistic instincts are inherited, and the genes of violence, pettiness and animalism win once again. In the eternal debate between nature and nurture, nature earns a brownie point.
Whenever I am a guest at Neptune’s citadel, I have an odd superstitious ritual. I walk towards her my hands at my sides, slightly apart. I walk straight towards the ocean’s bosom, without flinching at the cool water. It’s something deeply religious for me, deeply spiritual for me. I feel like it’s my connection with a power, power so awesome it causes this closed system of Life to occur. A Power of balance and majesty. It replaces the space of common ritualistic religion with a sort of connection. A sort of inner understanding of my place, my life in comparison to the world, the wild wind of change and destiny we call home, we call life.
I have arrived at the summer migration grounds, and it is time for us to adorn ourselves to attract mates, summer is the time when most human mating occurs. Many of the older members of the herd mate their original mates, but this fact is not really what interests me. It is the young members of the herd who are in search of their mates that are a matter of interest to me. The males seemed to have caught on to a mating trend of shedding most of their fur, but that of the tops of their heads. This fur they style in upward sorts. They also cover their eyes with dark reflective material. They tend to dress in small coverings in various designs made of synthetic material which cover the body from the bottom of the waist to various lengths around the knee. The females remove all fur except for that on the tops of their heads; they dress in odd outfits that cover their breasts and crotch area (which resemble 3 triangular shapes of material). They often were these outfits in bright colors to attract the male eye. The males often do mock physical activities to attract females, while females chatter in loud high pitched chants to attract male attention.
It is solely at the ocean that I can become in touch with my emotions. I seem to just let them build up, and the ocean seems to iron out all the tensions and stresses. I think it’s probably the reliability of the ocean and her waves that attracts me, unlike the land of metamorphosis, the raging rat race of existence. My tears flow easily when I’m at the ocean, when the waves wash over me, cleaning my soul. It is at the ocean I question myself, it is at my yearly migration I’m able to put myself into perspective. I felt like I was a jarhead in the Iraqi war, a distant nobody fighting a battle that I knew was worthless. I felt like I was a mere spectator in my life, a bystander a forgotten face at the meandering mall of life. What have I achieved for my life? What do I have to show? I question, I seek through the silky sand for answers to my philosophy. And like the exfoliating properties of the sand, I break away from the dead emotion; I shed the old to reveal a new me, a new beginning, a new chapter.
Take a trip to the coast of contradictions next holiday season, and after you graze and herd, take leave from the mundane. Take a lonely trip down to Neptune’s palace and other then the wonders of Mother Nature’s luminescent tresses, you might just find yourself.
Just some weird, abstract, random food for thought,
Peace
hoosain khan
P.S. anyone interested in the Otto Trail?
