Lower Dens - Nootropics - Alphabet Song
[ brains ]
[ unkempt ]
You’re supposed to fucking feel shit. Not forever, but there is something fucked up about trying to get rid of a particular feeling too soon, forcing it to go away. There is something beautiful that awaits. It hurts to do certain things and at least when dealing with different kinds of physical pain a great deal of a mental game begins to happen and as long as you can be aware of that you can push through.
When the water first hit my toes in the midst of one of the hottest days of the summer I was reminded of a different kind of pain that existed. One that I hadn’t yet experienced. One that my bones let me know existed. It didn’t take long for my body to realize the pain and establish a set of fears that would be used as excuses to prevent me from feeling further pain. But I hadn’t felt it before and I wanted to feel more, because I knew it would go away on its own. The kids didn’t care, and maybe the all of the nervous moms around them didn’t either, care about the pain that is, there was something else to be had. It took several attempts. First ankle deep. Retreat. Then a slow shivering stroll to knee deep. Retreat. The rising tide that was slowly swallowing the sand and beach towels taunted me, yet somehow supported my endeavor. A few more attempts and I found myself waist deep. It was at this point that I realized that a sort of procession, that had been taking place the whole day, was happening alongside me. A procession of dealing with pain in a way that I had determined was not a way for me. One by one, alone, with chests puffed out, men of all different ages and sizes marched into the frigid Atlantic waters to deal with the pain in this brief ritualistic way. A way that seemed to prove to them, and the eyes that caught their journey, that they were capable of dealing with it. Waist deep, then slightly past the belly button, they all pushed forward, then paused. I am not certain, but it appeared as though they all did a mental count to three before lunging in head first, then came up out of the water. Breathless. A swipe of the water from their face, a gasp for warm air, and then the march back. There was no dealing with it further. It hurt and maybe felt a little crazy, a little exhilarating, but there was no need, for them at least, to stick around for more. The waters around me had barely just made it to my nipples at this point as I watched. By this point I had been in the waters for a good thirty minutes. Each step forward adding a new layer of cold along with a new layer of it’s okay to be feeling this. First my ankles were okay, then my knee were okay, my thighs were okay faster then the previous two, and my balls retreated in the way that they do when shit gets cold but they were okay. From the nipples down my bones were now feeling the pain and all that was left was to gently wade in the chilled waters. Each time new cold was felt a little bit of breathing was sacrificed, an unsteady inhale exhale. The pain was amazing, worth it. I submerged my head soon after. I was rewarded and reminded by the salty waters that lingered on my lips. I was okay. My body adjusted, I waded, and watched as the procession of puffed out chests continued, as the kids continued not caring, and the mothers continued to nervously watch over that which was everything to them. I waded. I am wading. I am waiting. I am not in a hurry because it feels good.