Blue Nautilus

I wrote this two years ago summer.

Blue Nautilus

 In the morning light she dives in the cool water and feels the blue rolling over and undulating the sex of her rhythm.

 I move forward confidently, stroke layered upon stroke, breathing in the warm air. My flesh is covered in seal skin and the blue nautilus fills my watery vision. Stroke, breathe, stroke, breathe, kick – continuous. Elation, well being, clouds of blue pulled into my mind and the compartments of my life begin their roll call.  First to be recalled is the unflattering; that person I spoke to on the phone, was it acrimonious? No, perhaps difficult, self-centering the movement keeps my mind from self-beratement and negative spirals.

My mind circles the chambers inward, my husbands laugh at my self-deprecating joke on the way out the glass door causes an involuntary smile. Deep harmonious, Santa Fe blue. Snapshots of the day shopping with my boys; smiles, laughs, jokes, profiles, jaw lines, a pair of green eyes, a pair of chocolate brown ones all observed by my pair of amber ones.

The spiral continues in and Gram Is, Is remembered sitting up in the bed of the nursing home, her long gray hair thinly distributed across her small, petite shoulders. She can’t get out of bed today but her humour is intact and the love in her pale green eyes makes me silent, staring, suddenly awestruck in the presence of this 95 year old woman who has seen so much, been through so much and still there is the unvarnished true love as she looks at me. The under odors of the home disappear and I know I smell blue violets, her favorite.

Reflecting the sky is why a pool is blue. The Nautilus chambers spiral ever closer to the heart, the deep things I’m afraid to think of; my book, my writing. The story refuses to flesh out. There is too much research, I can’t do it…without being aware I’m creating a new character, one that will pull the disjointed ends together but it curls at the edge of my mind. Keep going, keep breathing, stroke, breathe, stroke breathe, kick to the center, Turning ever inward till it is dark and no light escapes and the fear compressed. The hollowness of the center of a shell and there I am alone, finally, and it is empty…

My head breaks the surface and I pull the snorkel tube from my mouth and inhale deeply, Blue sky, solid concrete, not alone.

 

mmm.... I just found this today looking for something else. Kind of surprised myself. I thought my writing was more crappy than this. Lordie, one really needs to stop the negative self abuse and move forward with a tad more courage. I really don't want my tombstone to read "she didn't have any balls to move through her natural fears as a human to create, even to create badly, and died with greatness, never unleashed,  still in her soul." 

More than anything I wanted to relate how seriously impressed I was at the responses to my "Fragile Day." Finding a caliber of concern without pity honored my strength and honored yours.  To have deep concern in one's heart without  interference, yet faith in the purposefulness of my life as well as yours, and the belief in one to fulfill her own destiny is a remarkable trait in a human. There was so much grace to be at the receiving end, yet still feel like I had given a gift as well.  amazing grace :)

I also wanted to say that that kind of support held the tension that had that finally broke free, it held  a safe space for a time, kindness allowed tears, and then relief and release. I can't control this, and I know I will wax and wane with trying to. In the moment of surrender there was peace. This is not so totally miraculous, but it was significant.  

in grace and love on this beautiful Sunday.