You can't wash away sin

Splish splash, the water passes over my feet, and it's fucking cold, I remember that. The waves come up to my ankles and it feels good, but it's also is cold as shit. I can't imagine swimming in the Pacific, though I have. Here, it's cold as all hell and is better viewed, buut still, it's inviting.

We submerge ourselves in water, and though it seems cliche to say, water is renewal. It's a symbol of birth and rebirth. I was born. I've lived. I bathed. I was reborn. Rebirth. I don't know, I think as I'm looking at the waves, the beautiful sea scape in front of me. You can't wash away sin. You can't unfry things, Jerry.

But we're alone when we submerge ourselves in water. It's just us when we take down a mouthful of the beverage. We're solo when we are in the shower -- mostly. And it's us and our thoughts durning these times: we're holding our breath, gulping down, washing up. It is kind of a rebirth because we come out of these solitary moments with a new perspective. No matter how small, it's a different mind set. We're refreshed.

And I'm thinking about this on the beach, where water ends and land begins: A different kind of life starts, but at the same time the the other still exists. And I"m dead and alive at the same time. Part of me is gone forever while I continue be and grow. Drink and shower. Submerge and see scapes.

I'll start anew tomorrow. Rested: maybe. Reinvented: not so much. Rebirthed: of course. It's new. So fresh and so clean.

I'm thirsty. And I'm going to get some water. Anybody? Water?

1 comment :

Juvinated said...

Part of my thirst was quenched and part of me is even more parched. Stay out of that ocean, unless it is with a nice surfer girl. Keep drinking from that fountain of knowledge. And stay dry down there as long as you are able.