Legs tucked under me, chocolate melting on my tongue, Kindle balancing on my thighs — I’m reading “The Penguin Book of Mermaids” as this car transports me from Bangkok, southeast to a ferry terminal. I’ll cross the water to Koh Chang and enjoy a couple weeks of aggressive snorkeling and wildlife appreciation. Traveling ultra-light on this trip with bikinis, a freediving mask, Kindle, journal and speaker. Reading, writing, listening to music, meditating and yoga on the beach. Oh, and I brought the GoPro to film beautiful moments that will later be edited into the vlogs, the mini documentary films my team edits and I share with studio members who support these journeys. I’m now filming season two of “Love and Rainbows”. I’m experimenting with a new filming style this time around - incorporating verticals video and collages, a film that feels more like a scrapbook. Documentary living is a lifestyle that’s crept in since childhood; always writing the feelings I’m experiencing and shooting the pretty interesting things I see. Why, I wonder, should I bother trying to capture such an impermanent universe. Even my art will fade. I feel myself, and the work I create, flowing in a greater flow, turning over in a cycle stronger than logic. I feel good when I document and create. It’s a lovely gesture though fleeting and disposable. Today, I play with a crazy vibrant colorful filter on the photos I snap on the iPhone 13 Pro. Waking up in a busy city is a shock to this body that’s been snoozing beside the sea for a couple months. Why so rushed, everyone? Younger parts of me feel memories rise in the body with sights of the city. I used to love living in cities when I moved as fast as them.
The ocean, though mysterious, had become a safe place for me. The beach is fun and underwater is spacious. The beach makes me dreamy. Underwater I am in the dream. It’s a living fantasy.
Surface time is a thing now in my awareness. surface intervals. How long have I been on land? How long since I was in the water? This is a pressing question. Slip into the water and wash off all dirt of mind, residue of problems. The water plays with me and lifts the mood. Everything is good in the water. I played in the hotel pool this morning, 7th floor outdoor, cars honking on the street below, lovely temperature. I held one breath, kicked off the wall and torpedoed through the water until my chin gently bumped the rough floor. No injury, just surprise. It’s been awhile since I swam in a pool. I’ve been diving in water with sand 20m below me, no risk of accidentally crashing my face into the bottom. Surprise! Oh yes, it’s a pool. I feel like an ocean fish swimming full speed into the glass wall of its new tank, confused.
All books open on my Kindle right now are about mermaids. Reading sentences about the ocean makes me feel close to her. The ocean is sending me messages through the words other people have written about her. Like a girlfriend telling me that she heard from someone on the playground that the boy I crush on might like me like me. A notice through the grapevine lifts my spirits and flutters my warm heart. Reading stories about the ocean from other human hearts makes my own heart feel connected to the ocean still, although I wake up in a concrete jungle.
My own words pour out today with the flat white oat milk coffee. IDK Cafe Silon earns my award for one of the most strangely decorated coffee houses I’ve ever stepped inside. The colors are vibrant, furniture asks me to figure out how to sit on it, cartoon character fill the walls, the air smells like marajuana. Welcome to Thailand.
Love & Rainbows,
Cha Wilde
