Imbalance
"What a disgraceful lapse! Nothing added to my disquisition, & life allowed to waste like a tap left running. Eleven weeks unrecorded." - Virginia Woolf
I'm standing on a board that is just a little wider than my own shoulders.
"Just relax. Focus.", I keep telling myself, acutely aware of how easy this looked earlier, but isn't. I notice I'm still wearing my watch, so a tumble into the water is a horrible idea. My left leg twitches. The board wobbles accordingly, and I'm making waves as my right foot dips under the surface when I overcorrect. Stiff as the plank I'm floating on, I try to recapture the balance everybody else seems to have slipped into almost naturally.
"Don't look down, look forward. If you look down, you'll fall." I cling to the instructions religiously, as if understanding the words will somehow force my body to comply. I paddle forward, trying to keep up with the group ahead and briefly consider the beauty of the marina around me: Sandy beaches, rocky cliff sides, a beautiful coastal town riviera with countless boats . "This is the kind of view I should be remembering", I think, as my gaze turns a little too far to my right, and through my carelessness the board makes another violent attempt at throwing me off.
My feet are cramping up. My legs are getting tired. The sun is scorching hot, and the water looks wonderful. I realise then, that maybe I do want to fall.
Rabat. After the desperate intensity of my emotions these past two months, this one feels like a reprieve, more than anything else. On the eve of Hijra, in the heart of this bustling muslim metropolis where nobody knows us, I feel myself letting go of some of the tension that's been building up since our time in London.
We have commenced our fifth month "in exile". London and Lisbon flew by, and it was towards the end of our time in Belgrade that I had to admit to myself that there are few things I detest more than week-by-week publishing.
I find myself in a place both weaker and stronger than when I left. Balance is such a nebulous concept to me; easily imagining myself to be no more than a floating brain with eyes and ears, rather than having any conscious awareness of the rest of my body. And as such, both in body and mind, the exercise has left me strained, constantly on the edge of collapse. I want to give in, give up. I'm tired. Life has been a rollercoaster. I've used this expression so many times, carrying so many different stories, it barely has meaning anymore.
But I'm still standing. I can see the group ahead. They told me to paddle as the momentum would make it easier. I didn't fall.