Eurhythmy - Part V - Eurhythmy.

My greatest gift to you

Is a dance floor

Free from insecurity

-Alexisonfire, ‘Get Fighted’

Let’s redefine

What it means to heal

-Alexisonfire, ‘Accidents’

– There’s nothing there.

Go to the precipice. Look in. Don’t try to see Something – try to see Nothing. It’s harder to look for Nothing, and much more rewarding.

Do you know what I might see?

It’s in your mind’s eye. Who knows what exists between the unending bounds of the unconscious universe? Should I look into those depths, I might discover something entirely different to what you find. Or, I might discover Nothing, and find my soul, and what it is I need, what I must do.

What must I do?

You must look!

I’m afraid

Of what

I don’t know

Don’t be scared

How can I stop being scared if I don’t know what I’m scared of

You are afraid of Nothing, like the child who sees Everything in the blackness of night-time dreams

Is that what this is

 A dream

 If I wake up, what will happen

You’ll die

And if I look into the Abyss

You’ll still die – but you shall know Everything!

But I want to live

Everything dies, some time or other.

*   *   *

There’s an ocean out my window...

Oh sea, you shelter

You dance between my toes

When I feel like I can’t move forward

You carry me like a father

-From First to Last, ‘Waves Goodbye’

The sea breeze, although only light, turns brisk in the wake of the coming dawn. Icy droplets have formed along my loose strands of hair, and they resemble the stars. I wrap my towel around me in an attempt to get warm, but it is still wet and the shock of the icy damp on my skin makes me gasp and sigh. I turn away from the incoming tide and do my best to huddle into a narrow crevice. I shut my eyes to my tears and feel the wind grow stronger.

But then it stops. Everything. The wind dies away, the stars are obscured by the empty drapery of night. Even the sounds of the ocean, always so loud and clear at night, muffle and distort as a cover of warmth drives out the cold and drives me to sleep.

I wake up to a mumbling, grumbling sound and find that I am covered by a scratchy blanket. The mid-morning sun is hot and beneath it I am sweltering. It comes off, and in the first brightness I can’t see a thing. Without the woollen blanket over me the grumbling sound grows as clear as a chime and when I squeeze my eyes open again I find Dad there, head drooped lazily onto his chest and snoring loudly. I’m surprised I didn’t recognise that sound immediately – it was like hearing it for the first time, even though I have heard it almost every night for the past ten years.

I sit and watch Dad for a bit, seagulls careening overhead in slow circles, looking for fish and crabs on the shoreline. Eventually the sand on my skin becomes unbearably itchy, and I wade past the shallow breakers to where the water is calm to wash it away. A light breeze lifts my dripping fringe from my eyes and all I can see is open water. Behind, on the beach, Dad sleeps on in the rocky alcove, oblivious to all, small and vulnerable in that enclosed space.

I turn away from him, and look out towards the slow curvature of the Earth, thinking about nothing – and enjoying it.

*   *   *