Here we are cast out into the unprecedented flow of the world.
Tossed by its rippling waves.
Moved by the push of the force around us.
Query: to what extent do we have to drown out the noise before our minds get washed out?
I reach for a buoy but it bobbles away from my grasp.
Good things happen with patience, so they say.
Next week I'll be another week older, none the wiser, because nothing will have happened that was significantly different from yesterday.
Stale water has a smell to it.
Unlike clean flowing spring water, stale water has a characteristic stench.
It’s a forgettable smell, but in the moment, it reeks in a repulsive way - I wouldn’t want to point my nose in that direction. Not that I get to choose the direction.
My direction has been chosen for me by a body of water I’ve never met before. Apparently my flow channels into its source of abundance.
How do I change the direction of the flow?
I’m lost on that one too.
Author’s note: With the looming sense of a second lockdown around the corner, how do we navigate our emotions and mental health given the throes of this uncertain time?
It’s good to sit and reflect insofar as we have an anchor — sometimes the current of our reflection might be so strong, in a moments time, our minds can bring us to some darker aspects of our humanity, that perhaps we aren’t quite ready to face yet.
I hope everyone who reads this has found a way to manage their obligations, expectations, and the mundane in good mental health. Godspeed.