The cure for anything is saltwater – sweat, tears or the sea.
Last week, I went home to my motherland for a brief holiday. The itinerary was filled like a dentist’s daily calendar thanks to the few people who made sure each day was well-spent and packed with nothing but good vibes. For this I’ve only the deepest gratitude for the effort and mere thought of giving me a good time or even just their ears.
On hard times…well, everyone has them and in varying degrees (which I think is also relative to one’s own perception and resilience). But parallelisms cannot serve to make you feel better, if ever they just rub in guilt like salt to your wound, further injuring your already messed up self-worth. But it always gets better. Over time yes, but this shithole actually does have an end and it isn’t as abysmal as it feels. But before you do reach that point, I can only highly recommend the healing abilities of sweat, tears and sea water:
- Get up from your brooding corner and run. Keep running until you are nothing but a soaking bundle of meat and clothes;
- Go ahead and don’t stop yourself from bawling your guts and entrails out like this guy or else you’ll find yourself either constipated, or bursting into tears during the most untimely moments or even in public (trust me, its funny but not pretty);
- Jump into the nearest, most accessible pool of salt water you can find asap. Submerge your head, and the rest of you and just keep yourself there for a while (don’t drown though c’mon!). Mingle with the underwater residents if you have company, be friendly and just appreciate. Lay on your back and bask in your own buoyancy, take in that authentic sky-view and the surrounding flora. Breathe. Surrender.
Today is the first day I finally felt a sense of liberation, perhaps from my own head.
And holy fuck, it feels good.
The words of Isak Dinesen and borrowed from my friend Diane.