My Little Room.

When I was living on a beach in Mexico so many years before, when I would body-surf, when the force of a wave would throw me under and whip me around, I had a system. I would find a little room at the bottom of the ocean. I wouldn't struggle. I'd wait for the big bad wave to pass over and once it seemed like the coast was clear I'd resurface, ready for the next. While I was in that little room I'd just be with me. In fact I would just be. And sometimes there was no 'would just be.' There was simply 'I' alone. Words cannot go there, in that little room. I can't say where the waves come from or where they go. I can't say where the thoughts come from or where they go, where I come from before the body and where I'll go after. What I know is that there is a room at the bottom of the ocean of life which is pure and free.