Sea corals bleach completely white and “freeze-in-time” when a shift in temperature occurs in its environment. It induces unbearable stress and brings upon a sudden death. It loses all its colorful pigmentations and becomes a bone-like artifact, especially when seen dry out of the water. I give this example because I like to collect artifacts that go through this kind of processes.
My collection of bleached
artifacts happen from the future; near or distant it doesn’t matter. The only thing is that when you bring it to surface, as it crosses the boundary of its space and yours, it completely stops pulse and loses its anima. It is a lethal psycho-physiological reaction that occurs when it leaves the Other Side.
Just as every ocean goer takes a few shells back home from the beach, I also can’t resist the temptation of bringing back some tangible memories from this place. It’s not often that I travel there, and every time I experience excruciating metamorphosis like in Aronosfky’s film Black Swan, so I would like to keep something to remember.
Is it ok to bring things back? According to marine conservationists they say “take only memories; leave behind only footprints,” and that by removing organic items from the sea it will permanently affect the ecological balance formation in one way or another.
Adrenaline is rushing through every pore; the skin starts growing sensations never felt before. A complete transformation is taking place and you are totally stressed out from this new yet displeasing surrounding. There are left no choices but to surrender.
Everything happens in slow motion: I open my eyes and nothing is moving. I am endlessly swimming as hard as I can, but the force of undertow counters me into a hold-still. I know I am on the losing side… and slowly I have to let go.
Holding my palpitating lungs, my desperate instincts try to suck one last breath into the void. What was once hold-still is now alive; details emerge in sheer excitement. I am a fish. Within the transparent reflections of surrounding water, I see a glimpse of the future now. It is here.
A few months back I was given a strange “heart-shaped” purple seed from an indigenous Kuna friend of mine. She said it was a token of love. I was to keep it close in my satchel at all times: in return her spirits of love would protect me through the treacherous jungle.
seeds are known in indigenous shaman cultures as having special divinatory healing powers when ingested. It is said to induce lucid dreams where the dreamer can actively participate in and manipulate imaginary experiences in the dream environment. Some dreamers simply decide only to observe and let be carried away into experiences that seem to have gone extinct in the real world. A few risk and chase the vapors into all directions.
Multitudes of future scenarios are presented before me as I hold a concentrated last breath and thrust down my bare hands to clasp the big fish
. Most times I fail, but once in a while I wake up with something in my hand. Only it is not anymore what it was. It is now a desiccated fragment from my waking dream.
I have killed it. I had no other choice but to desire it. Everything looked real and possible. There was no inhibition. I knew it would die if I took away from it, but those precious moments bring me back to my present moment. I am one again. The fleeting mistakes are gone with the distant sun. I am lost again in equanimity.
submitted to Pentales