My Deep Pockets

One day I was walking with my boys to the river, and there was an opaque puddle on the road, in the color of a coffee with milk. “What if it is too deep?” I curiously asked my son Kristians, who was ready to immerse his brown boot in it. You couldn’t really see through the puddle, so the depth was a slight mystery.

We played with the idea of an immensely, unbelievably and unexpectedly deep puddle in the middle of the road, it gave a twinkle in our eyes and the whole place came to life. I thought of Alice’s rabbit hole and of Mariana Trench in Pacific Ocean.

Without the depth in nature we, probably, would be a bit different beings. I wonder if we would even have a proper inner life? The soul would stifle. The same with vastness. When I experience something boundless, the dimension of time vanishes in the puff of smoke. Kant defined it not as something beautiful, but rather – sublime. And when we experience something sublime, it is always lined up with fear. A charming chemistry of our body and soul.

I’m scared of depth, because I am a bad swimmer. I need to feel the seabed with my toes. But for the same reason I’m also drawn to it. What scares us, allures us.

When I am by the sea, on the edge of the land, I immerse my hands deep in the pockets of my inner life and am strangely happy. Because I can’t reach, where those pockets end.

***

Ar puikām eju uz upi, un uz izdangātā ceļa lūr glāžaina peļķe. Piena kafijas krāsā. “Ja nu tā ir dziļa?” prasu Kristianam, kurš grasās iemērkt zābaku. Cauri jau nevar redzēt. Taču doma par ārprātīgi dziļu peļķi tepat asfalta robā liek acīm iemirdzēties, un pliekanais ceļa posms mirklī atdzīvojas. Kā tāda Alises truša ala vai Mariannas dziļvaga Klusajā okeānā.

Ja dabā nebūtu dziļuma, cilvēks, iespējams, būtu pavisam citāds. Diez vai tam vispār būtu jēdzīgas iekšējās pasaules. Tāpat kā bez plašuma. Kad esmu līdzās kam neizmērojamam, laika dimensija izkūp pilnībā. Kants to sauca nevis par skaisto, bet par cildeno vai diženo. Kad to piedzīvojam, piemēram, neaptverami iespaidīgu skatu, odere diženajam vienmēr ir bailes. Brīnišķīga ķermeņa un gara ķīmija.

Man ir ļoti bail no dziļuma, jo es slikti peldu. Ar kāju pirkstiem vienmēr gribas spēt sataustīt gultni. Tomēr līdzās jūrai uz zemes malas sabāžu rokas dziļi iekšējās pasaules kabatās, tā ka līdz padusēm, un esmu laimīga. Jo joprojām nevaru aizsniegt, kur tās kabatas beidzas.

Photo: Anna Iltnere, Beach Books

Stifle

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