With the wind blowing the loose strands of hair from my pony tail, I parked myself at the beach with the city skyline on my right side and beach houses to my left. As I look at the sea in front of me, I found comfort in Elizabeth Gilbert’s writing (the irony, I know) while I highlight lines like I was studying the book.
‘Soul mending’ are the words I told myself as I walked out of the house to the beach. It wasn’t ‘soul searching’ but ‘mending’ instead. It somewhat needs a little ‘recharge’. It was the place. And I didn’t really need people because only you know how to fix yourself. I mean, after all, you know yourself the best.
I closed my eyes and surprisingly, the massive storm was calm. Everything (emotional, mental, and physical being) in my body was quiet. It was that kind of peace that I’ve been yearning for and right there, on that beach, I had it. I began realising that I was one with my body, as if my soul just…mended. Take it from me that the most difficult thing to do is actually loving yourself and believe that all your flaws are stitched together with good intentions. You can’t keep seeing yourself as the enemy and start accepting yourself for who you really are.
That’s what I told myself as I sat there on the warm, soft sand. ‘You can and you will ; you got this‘. I was in the most utterly contented moment with me, myself and I. It was that time at the beach that I found out that I grew as a person. For me, at least, it was the kind of different where it changes you to be better.
Like Haruki Murakami once wrote in Kafta On The Shore (a book that I still have yet to buy and read),
“Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There’s no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That’s the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.
An you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You’ll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.
And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.”