Water

Letters to July 2020: IV

By Thomas Feng

July 23^rd, 2020

Dear July,

Life in lockdown feels like we're drifting in the vast ocean. Each day comes and goes like a wave, dragging us up and down, up and down, as we summon the mental and physical strength needed to stay above water.

It is a slow test of endurance to see whether we can let go of the control we desire over our own lives. The faster we swim, doubling down in our search for new hobbies, meaning and purpose, the more exhausted and burnt out we become. We have no idea whether the ocean floor is shallow enough to catch us, nor is there any land in sight.

I have been missing the water July. I miss the sensation of the endless breeze brushing my hair and the taste of salt in the air. It is a place of quiet solace, where thoughts ripple and connect together with each rumbling crash.

I have long accepted that I don't know what sits underneath the water. I have only known uncertainty, change, ambiguity, having never really been sure what I'd ever be doing in the future outside of wanting to make a positive difference.

There is an inherent beauty of not knowing, a joy of discovering a vast new world of places, perspectives, people and ideas when you do take that dive underwater. It is naturally uncomfortable, but it is a place of empathy, vulnerability and growth.

I want the ocean to swallow me whole, and I want to swim endlessly and effortlessly.

But I am tired July. I need a break from work and stop for a while, I just don't remember how.

So for now, this letter is a reminder to me and you that your value is not based on your productivity, what you produce, your employability, how much you earn or how many gigs you are juggling.

We are here for a good time, not a long time.

You deserve pleasure. You deserve to feel good. You deserve happiness. You deserve love.

Love always - Thomas

P.S. I hope this letter gave you a warm hug, like hot water on a cold night with frosty windows. Thanks for reading the fourth of my 2020 letters to July. How are you floating? What terrible metaphors are you using to describe life in lockdown? Drop me a line and tell me how you are, how you really are, and anything else you'd like.