The Abundance of Beauty and Terror
The Sea and The Sky
You are standing atop a narrow wobbly bridge that can collapse at any moment. Terrified to the core, you walk on the bridge unsteadily, despite knowing that you shouldn’t be doing this. But you can’t control it. So, you have to do it. There’s wind gushing through your dress and your hair, making them both sway in an elongated and asymmetrical U shape. After you get accustomed to the oscillating nature of the bridge, you visually take in what’s out there.
You witness the vastness around, the sea, the endlessness. There’s no other man-made structure in sight. There’s no breathing creature in sight. You have no hint as to what you’re doing here. All you see is water on either side of the slender object underneath your trembling feet. In all its boundlessness, the sea seems quiet and serene in the far end, but nearby it is reckless, uneasy, and playful. It splashes you with uneven quantities of its parts now and then. You think if the sea is mocking your inability to comprehend this situation and the state. Instead, it exhibits the dynamism of a human, the civility and the turbulence.
After a few difficult steps, you’re drenched and exhausted. You don’t know where you’re heading, and you can’t command either. All you see ahead is the tapering bridge, ending somewhere at the confluence of the sea and the greyish sky. And all you feel is panic and hollowness. Yet, despite the hopelessness and aimlessness, the site is astoundingly magnificent.
You can’t help but marvel at the sheer beauty that lay in front of your eyes. The expansive, moody sky, pouring consistently. There is no moon, and there are no twinkling stars. Just shapeless dark patches on the plain grey sky with intermittent lattices of shiny branches. The expansive erratic sea amidst which you scrape through incessantly but slowly. Unexpectedly, with a fearful heart, you think of creativity. You think of perhaps writing a poem or sketching the wondrous sight.
You think about everything that you could do if at all there was a sense of safety. Maybe a boat or an umbrella or another soul? If you were not plagued by thoughts where the sea is devouring you. Perhaps you could live in the moment and not desire for moments anywhere but here. Alas! That’s all there is to wish and contemplate because you suddenly register the worst is happening.
You stop appreciating the beauty once you hear the water rising on the right end. The rise is uncontrolled, much like your actions on the bridge. You want to scream for help, demand that the water calms down, but you also know that the effort would be futile. So, you stand, shaking, waiting for the tide to engulf you. The water rises as high as the mountains and then bends to form a beautiful curve for a fleeting moment. And then it approaches you.
It continues to ascend and overarches itself over your tiny head. You realize how small and powerless you are. With each passing moment, the dark, plain, and scary water is furthering near you. You can’t escape. You can’t stop it. The sight darkens, and the frightful heart is ready to leap out of your chest. You await your impending doom as the curve comes closer and closer. Closer and closer. And boom! Your heart is still throbbing, but you’re awake and in your bed.
You squirm to make sure of the reality. You hug the comforting blanket and stare at the fan overhead. You remember the bearings of your room and are happy to find everything in their places. You crane your neck and look outside the window. You guess maybe the dawn is near. The darkness is still there, but there is also moonlight. And there is an upside-down cupcake shaped tree, swooshing and swaying like the dress in the nightmare. You crane a little more to the other side and peek into the next room. You find your loved ones there, soundly sleeping without a clue about where you’ve been. And there you have it. The sense of safety and security. The calmness and mindfulness after a rapid array of frightening feelings. A boat, an umbrella, and a soul. A bed, a tree, and your loved ones.
So, you shut your eyes again to take another nap. Or maybe to venture someplace else, where there is beauty, not terror, where there is weirdness but not fright, where there is the sea, but not devouring tides. But who knows what will happen in the next dream or the next nightmare? Still, you sleep and hope for a beautiful morning in the end.
