I have a poster of this famous print, hanging on my wall. Right next to the desk I have been sitting at for endless hours, working with students, attending Zoom meetings, etc. I stare at it a lot. The small details, little carvings and etches all combining into a beautiful portrait of the ocean, a mountain and boats of seafarers.
It reminds me of the tumultuous, tidal circumstance I find myself in. One not of my making or under my control. Crest and plummet. I wake up, out of sorts, desperately looking for some kind of normalcy that has long since sunk to the bottom. Like a ship wreck that wont be discovered for a century.
I feel out of control. In constant struggle to gain my bearings. I sit, feeling idle, but my mind is turbulent and riotous- the energy is clamorous and agitated. A constant slosh, causing headaches and fatigue.
I have mountains to climb, but I need to focus on just one- Fuji in this case. I need to stand tall and formidable, in the face of doubt and fear. I need to be a focal point for positivity, amidst the chaos. A visual peak, now snow capped and beautiful, still and permanent- a reminder I am seen and appreciated.
If I do not find my center- I might just capsize. The two boats, in this artwork are crowded with sailors, oars at the ready, to steer into the wave, to ride its torrent. They are working together, unified in solving a problem- to stay afloat and upright in the storm. Collaboration and support, keeping the raft moving forward.
The wave has finger-like characteristics, almost scratching at the sky, ready to claw at the ocean current. Ominous, yet beautiful. Welcoming. Mist, foam and bubbles- make me feel calm somehow, with repetition of shape, color and shadow. Playful, in the doom of a rolling, falling, teeming ocean crash.
The juxtaposition is alluring. It keeps catching my eyes throughout the day. I close my eyes and imagine myself, wet to the core, oar in hand- paddling and surviving. I smell the salt and feel its bite, as it slaps my frozen face. I watch as the wave transforms itself into a giant sea monster, hungry and irritable.
I focus on the sound. That bellow from the sea floor that rumbles more than it collides. An unearthly moan of warning. If I let the depths rise, they will swallow me. But, if I keep leaning into the uncertainty, have faith that everything will be okay, it will be.
It is all a matter of determination- keep paddling. Overcoming fear- see the giant waves as a creature to lift me above the storm, rather than a monster to sink me beneath it. I keep my eyes on Fuji- permanence, tranquility, mother natures beacon.
Then I open my eyes, pull back my thoughts and stare at the story of a tsunami, both scary and captivating. And, slowly the world seems calmer, the giant wave of reality, feels less dangerous. I take this journey once a day, because it reminds me to stay in the moment- don't let the little waves become giant ones.
The ocean is vast, currents are fluid and constant. It is inevitable that I will have to endure a flood every now and again. Especially where I live. Buckets and umbrellas. Paddles and safety vests. But, I enter the storm because, its not going away any time soon.
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