Olive Oil for the Soul

I once heard that pearl divers use olive oil, poured onto a turbulent water surface it creates a patch of calm, a window to what lies beneath.

If only such a thing existed for the human brain, a wonder solution to calm my troubled thoughts. What an escape, to be able to dive down, down into the pressing water. Eyes shut, ears rushing from the pressure all around.

Sweeping faster through the void, arms pulling in powerful strokes, feeling the temperature change, the cold deepening with the blue of the water. Lungs aching now, it feels good, the slow burn of holding in breath beyond the norm, legs kicking towards the surface.

Bursting suddenly into the fresh air, eyes blinking in the startling light.

True freedom in the water.

Why can't I sleep? What has changed? Am I cursed to write forever, these bizarre combinations of words that seem to serve no purpose but to half explain my feelings.

That strange expression, a picture paints a thousand words. Questionable really.

Surely it depends on the subject, style, lighting, a thousand variables for creating words through image. A picture surely paints words, but maybe not a thousand, at least not every one.

Pictures take time, planning, a truly spontaneous image capable of really moving people is a rare commodity in my opinion.

But words, they come spewing from my very being so thick and fast sometimes the pen stumbles across the page. Words I full of emotion I am unable to express, and am only half sure of feeling. Are they even real?

Such strange heavy sorrow, pressing down upon my very being, seemingly sprung from nowhere. This complete lack of understanding confuses me, leaves my brain muddled. It grates on me like someone Else's bad habit.

Yet it is one I cannot escape, emanating from my very being, my very core.

If pictures paint, then my words scream, spewing forth my internal unrest.

Oh yes, how I crave some olive oil for the brain.