48. Held By The Light

Standing at the waterfront, I look out at the vastness of the sea. The afternoon sun shimmers off the water’s surface. There are wobbly patches of intense light in the foreground and an abundance of sparkles in the distance. The patterns that emerge possess a mesmerizing beauty. I feel an urge to capture the moment, to save its magic in some way. But I know it won’t work. Whatever I could preserve by taking a photo would not be this. It would just be a representation, a reduction of what is here and now into a lesser form. Right now I just need to see, to absorb the view, to live in it. This it that is already so fleeting. This it that will be gone so soon. But I’ve got to stop thinking about this. If I’m thinking about how it will soon be gone, then I’m already mourning, even while it’s still with me. I need to live it fully, and that means I’ve got to let go of everything but it. That means there is no past and no future. There is just this instant where I am being held by the light. But letting go also means there can be no me, either. Being fully present means being one with it. I need to allow myself to melt into it and for it to melt into me. The glistening and my feeling of its beauty together form something new, where there is no me, no water, no light. Just it. This singular experience. It’s brief but also eternal. Somehow I can sense eternity in it. And now I also notice that I’ve become more than I usually am. Boundaries that are usually sharp have become blurry. The world and I have become a living unity. And in this becoming, I feel an unmistakable joy.