Springling

Dear seafarer,

Spring is here. It is so hot. Too hot.

I woke up with beads of sweat trickling down my back.

The electric fan was on, buzzing softly in the background.

Propelled by the wind against my face, I fell asleep.

I wish I did not need to do anything. Just to float in nothingness.

Before that, I recalled trying out this thing called “mindfulness”. It was an awareness, of my own awareness. It felt rather strange.

As I lay in bed, I tried to immerse myself into the present moment. I wanted to feel every nuanced second of being alive, with every sense and fibre of my being. Sights, smells, sounds, touch, taste.

I listened to the birds outside. Sunlight was filtering in through the blinds. They looked like sharp golden blades, interspersed with shadows. Their radiance was glaring. I had to avert my eyes.

Somewhere in the distance, the faint beat of party music. Perhaps a spring festival.

Inside my room, I shifted my awareness to myself, and how I was experiencing a multitude of sensations at once. I tried to peel these sensations apart, to put them on different layers.

I felt my the weight of my body, sinking into the mattress of my bed. I felt the warmth that was generated between that space, from bedsheet to clothes. And with my clothes, I tried to feel out the points where they connected to my skin. I thought of the temperature of the room. The hair flayed out behind me, onto the pillow. My foot, nearest to the window. The texture of my blankets; synthesized fur.

I was alive, but not quite. I was an ebbing presence.  A tiny, breathing particle in the expansive matrix of life. I was insignificant, but significant enough that I was here, in the now, coursing with feelings, emotions, and thoughts. Receiving information from the environment, and letting it pass through me.

It was a lazy day. I did little to save myself from the torrential weeks ahead. But I could think of nothing else but to remain so still, that life would stream past me. For the rest of the day, I slipped in and out of consciousness, just like that- burning slowly in the spring heat of my room. At night, a conversation with charismatic people, and some dinner. And now back to my room.

It is 11.47 pm now. I have an assignment due soon. I should be worried. It is a nagging thought.

Tomorrow, life begins again, loud and noisy and bustling, and exams, exams, exams. 

Dear seafarer, where will I go next? 

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