I amended my Not Short backstory with Mary to adjust one of her descriptors. The word “ocean” is overloaded with meanings for me. There is the Ocean and there is the ocean. Both are bodies of water, but the former is a Power that uses the ocean as a metaphor for itself and as expression, and the latter is where giant squids and whales do battle. Both are deep as fuck.
When I described Mary as oceanic, I meant that her presence came with an overwhelming sense of water that dominated all my other senses. Anyone that has been in the ocean, out of sight from land, knows precisely what I mean. Where the air is just a drier form of the ocean, and everything is damp even though it looks dry, because the ocean is everywhere. In that sense, she is oceanic.
But I also deal with the Ocean, and have no other public names for it. So, with the archives nuked, and my main blog woefully untagged, unless you have stalked me for the past year or so, you’ll have no idea.
Why the clarification? Because the Ocean has been calling me for the past several days. I have been trying to travel to it, and can make it as far as the usual shore, but entering the water itself has been fruitless. I wade in to my knees and find myself unable to go any further. I blink and I’m back at the shore. Various currents have come out of the water to explain to me why.
Apparently, I’m not ready for what the Ocean has for me.
There is a skill I am lacking.
And the only way to show me that I was not ready, was to have me try. Because it is a skill that I was very much sure that I had. Turns out, it is a skill that is very easy to counterfeit. One I had before, but had lost as the years stressed me the fuck out. I had learned not to depend on it, and had adjusted my methods to work despite the lack.
An ocean current flowed out of the sea and took on a human form. It wore seaweed as a vest, and shells circled the neck in decoration. It scooped up enough mud as it rose to give it a tactile body I could interact with and touch. “When is the last time you sat with a clear and still mind?”
“Often. I can focus on a thing, or focus on a nothing and…”
“No. Not focus. Not using a thing or a sound to tie your attention with. Not a mental pebble to anchor yourself to. When is the last time you sat with an empty head?”
“I can’t do that anymore. It’s a little crowded up in here, you know.”
“You can. But until you remember how, you will not be able to enter the Ocean.”
“You’re asking me to do something that takes years to properly learn, much less master.”
“You have learned it. You have just forgotten.”
“Right.” I sat on the shore and pulled out a string of prayer beads from my right coat pocket with my right hand. 100 buffalo horn beads and 8 plastic beads placed to divide the string into halves, thirds, quarters, and sixths, it was Benefé’s favorite plaything until his spirit passed on. I haven’t used the physical string for meditation since. “Let’s see how much I have forgotten that I remember.”
“You know who could help you with this…” The manifestation of the current smiled and reminded me of sharks.
I scrunched my face at the current. The Ocean does not work with others in dealings with me. The means by which I came to be in the Ocean’s care excludes me from many other pantheons. As the current continued smirking at me, I realized the scent of water in the air had changed. My expression fell as I realized I was sitting above the high tide mark. Technically, where I sat was outside of the Ocean’s reach.
There was no salt in the scent of water. I was a dozen feet away from the ocean, but I could not smell it. Some say pure water has no smell and no taste. There is, but it can only be described in metaphors and poetry. Those that have only tasted tap water all their life will say pure water is sweet, but that is because it lacks the bitter dissolved minerals they are used to.
For me, pure water triggers neither taste or scent. It triggers a color. Blue. Once I would have said “baby blue”. But now it is a more specific color.
Marian blue.
The current reached forward and softly pushed my hand holding the prayer beads aside. “Wrong pocket. Wrong beads.”
“I’m not praying to any gods, regardless of prior relationship statuses.”
“You’re not being asked to.”
“I was asked to obtain a rosary in an expression of faith and goodwill between her and me. I’m not placing myself under her yoke.”
“It’s not a leash.”
“Then what the fuck is it?”
“A teaching tool. You are not ready for what the Ocean has. She can help you remember and refine [that skill].”
I reached into the left pocket of my coat and retrieved the phantom rosary. The scent of pure water radiated from it. It calmed me, and I was surprised to find I was expecting that reaction from it.
“I may be above the high tide mark, but this is still the Ocean’s realm. She can’t do anything more to or for me here.” The current nodded in agreement. “Fine. I’ll get the damn rosary this week.” The current shook with laughter, covering me with a fine mist of sea water. It lost its humanoid form and started to pour itself back into the ocean.
“Wait.” It paused and turned a projection back towards me. “This is in preparation for the Path of Teth, isn’t it.”
“Not all feats of strength, are physical.” Its ending tone announced the end of the conversation.
I stood and looked at the two sets of beads in my hands. Noting the left-right divide again, I placed the phantom rosary back in the left pocket, and the horn beads back in the right. I listened to the sound of the waves breaking against the shore for a long time.
“You know…”, I muttered to no one. “The card used to be called Fortitude.”
I turned away from the shore and left the dream.