I stood there, gazing at the sea waves crashing and receding, crashing and receding, with so much force yet so much softness. The ferocious water quickly turned to surf and turned back into a swift wave. I don’t know for how long I stood there. The Sun was up in the sky when I first saw the sea. It was now dipping into the sea, with just one orange tip shining above the water.
When I was younger and lived on the drill ships, I used to gaze at the sea with a forlorn face, and think how big the ocean is, and how small I am, and if there is a God somewhere and if he was listening to me.
Now, I was standing here looking at the ocean with a thrill, the thrill of knowing that I AM the ocean. That I have the same force and the same love and softness as the ocean. And that there is a God, and he is inside me and listening to me every second, that he is my very breath, my very heartbeat.
Today, when I sit on my laptop on a Monday morning having freshly quit my job, I feel that same thrill. I feel like I’m standing in front of an infinite ocean of time. I feel like I am at the beginning, at the beach, and in front of me is an infinite stretch of time in which I can do everything I want to do and more. I feel the freedom to be lost in my own joy and in the joy of just remembering Shiva. That joy is enough fuel to do anything in life, really.
I can see that slowly, the three have started merging – nature, time, Shiva and me. There are times when I can’t tell the difference between them. There are times when I am all of them, and all are me. So, how can time be linear?