We’re all Seagulls
The salty wild smells from the azure depths below you, fills your lungs while sailing, weightlessly in the air with your wings open. Close your eyes and dive, till you’re right above the surface. The small waves keep changing nuances with the glistening sun on the horizon. You spread your wings even more and play with the white horses of the waves before you rise again.
We’re all sailing with the winds above the sea. The blue that’s below us can change, to grey, deep blue, even to violet or yellow-pink. Sometimes the water is violent or almost lifeless, with stripes of oil making rainbows — fake smiles toward us. Other times its transparent and you count the small shells on the bottom of the white sand. Certain moments the surface is so blue that you cannot see through it. When it is grey it seems deeper, more frightening; wanting to swallow you into its tormented mood.
From the air we gaze down at the water like we contemplate emotions. Joy is the glistening parts of the waves. The azure moments make us want to dive, deep down, washing us with the feeling of splendidness, clarity or freedom. You want to stay there, in the blue comfortable depth, but you need to get up and breathe.
When you’re sailing decimetres above the surface again, you take a closer look at the blue positivity you once was part of and you recognise that it isn’t you. Nonetheless it remains happily as part of your experiences. Similarly, ‘negativity’ is a sailing boat passing the viewpoint of your horizon, or perhaps it is the sea when tormented and painted with oil patches. From the air you can see for miles. Somehow the open sky always reminds you how much you’re just a small thing linked to a whole universe. You’re part of everything you see, the air, the water and the sun — everything beautiful reminds you of all the beautiful things you are.
When the water suddenly turns grey, you know who you are not. The wind springs the waves to be violent below you. Remaining steady in the air becomes your singular focus. But nonetheless you must dive. Sometimes we have to catch fish in the middle of the sea’s frustration, diving into its grey sadness, getting oil on our wings.
Without prediction of what there is to come next, we will always have to dive and catch fish in the deep blue of ultimate happiness. Similarly, we will have to confront the grey tormented surface in moments when we less expect to do so in order to get the nutriments we need to grow. The timing of our needs will always decide the experiences we get. Sometimes we can chose to stay longer above the surface, till the storm is over, sometimes we might not. The sea is as beautiful as it’s frightening but we can decide to be brave and open — we’re all divers in the same spectrum of emotions. The water is what connects all islands and continents; emotions anchor us to empathy. Living is always being. Networking along, against or outside a web of continuous connections between other beings. Those who are left outside this system are still part of its systematisation. Above the sea we share the air with a million other seagulls. But some people do not even fly. They sail in a glass jar with polluted water, believing the jar is the ocean. Believing grey is blue. Its a crisis taking place everywhere, sometimes even more in the places on our planet which we think are further ‘developed’ or more ‘human’ — nations or the most cultured cities. But who are we, without the capacity to see ourselves in the eyes of others? Seeing yourself in everyone is seeing what you are and what you are not. When the dew rests on the fine lines of the web threads between us, we can chose to see what is reflected back to us — a glistening depth of azure, the jar with its misty glass walls or none of these things. Although we all depend on one sun, some keep looking down at the asphalt, and those have lost what it is like to be.