“Have you ever allowed yourself, to just float on, to drift slowly away, according to that inner, voiceless rhythm of wave after wave?”

By Christina J. Chua

The second diary entry in a series by writer Christina J Chua entitled “Longings”.

Last I checked in with the BSE family, I was yelling in my hallway. It wasn’t pleasant at all. I apologise, for the upset, for the noise. But, I had to release it all— shake it off.

And then some months later, we got released, or at least partially. Phase 2 came and went in Singapore and we all huddled in homes, only four or five at a time, sometimes with one too many bottles of wine, other times with just the neighbour’s cat for company.

Now at the cusp of the third and hopefully, the final phase, I promised Blue Sky I’d write another letter again. This time instead of screaming, it’d be on a much more silent activity that I’ve been ruminating… Swimming.

Since the phased release, we have all been active. Gyms have been booked OUT. More cyclists on the road. Impossible to get a wake-surf session. Like MAD activity! After being cooped up for so long, and yet unable to fly, we take to the CrossFit boxes, the spin classes, the roads, the waves…

But why the anxiety? Why couldn’t we continue in stillness, in solitude? Why couldn’t we just — SIT — with ourselves?

Every afternoon in Fiji was spent snorkelling and swimming on very empty beaches. I got such a memorable tan.

Even in a pool, the activity of swimming perfectly manifests that aloneness. But even more so, if one were to swim in the wide, open ocean. Or a flowing, freshwater river. Have you ever allowed yourself, to just float on, to drift slowly away, according to that inner, voiceless rhythm of wave after wave?

Could it be that the deeper challenge of this season or phase — whatever we want to call it — is to retain the simple motion, or solo ritual of stillness? Could it be that this was the ultimate lesson of 2020, for our generation of hype, and buzz, and senseless, ceaseless activity?

But tonight, I let go. Of everything that was burning and screaming. And I remember the River, the Fijian current that swept me unto itself. Tonight, I surrender to a bluish-green silence — of the Beyond.

The late afternoon sun shines after a passing storm, as our boat left the Mamanucas

“The windows turned to fishbowls

The city to seas

The cars were drowning underneath your feet

The children were swimming from the top of the trees

Crowds of umbrellas were staring in mis-belief

Well, Mary kept sewing,

Holding on to her TV

Even if the water was rising past her knees

 

Now here comes the river,

Coming on strong

And you can’t keep your head above these troubled waters

Here comes the river,

Over the flames

 

Sometimes you got to burn to keep the storm away

Sometimes,

Sometimes you got to just

 

Nobody told you it was going to be this hard

Something’s been building behind your eyes

You lost what you hold onto

You’re losing control

There ain’t any words in this world

That’s gonna cure this pain

 

Sometimes it’s going to fall down on your shoulders,

But you’re going to stand through it all

 

Here comes the river,

Coming on strong

But you can’t keep your head above these troubled waters

Here comes the river,

Over the flames

Sometimes you got to burn to keep the storm away…” 

“Here Comes the River”

— Patrick Watson

What are some of your treasured moments when you were out there exploring the world? Share your moments with us by tagging your old and new Instagram posts with #mymomentofbluesky or reach out at [email protected].