When I was a child, my father took me to a resort. The hotel was expensive, but it was close enough to reach by car in an hour. The winding roads made me unusually carsick.
The resort had activities for children, including a water walking ball. The ball looked huge to me as I waited in line and watched children my age tumble around inside. When my turn came, I was nervous—not afraid of falling, but worried I would lose my balance and have to tumble like everyone else. It felt as if failing to tumble would waste the activity.
I do not remember how long I was inside. Once the waterproof zipper was closed, I stopped trying to stand. I sat down, lay down, and looked up at the afternoon blanksky until the few minutes were over. I remember white clouds and slightly harsh sunlight. I drifted gently with the lake, thinking of nothing and marvelling at the quiet.
After I came out, my father did not ask why I had not tumbled more, and I have forgotten what we talked about afterward.
Later, I never experienced that quiet again. As I grew older, there were more and more things to consider. Real sounds, false sounds, and imagined sounds surrounded me while I was awake and accompanied me into sleep.
There were sounds around me inside the ball too. The difference before and after closing the zipper was simply too great for my ears to adjust. I once noticed that if I played white noise through a speaker and then switched it off, my ears immediately felt much quieter. I wondered whether deliberately thinking about many things and then stopping suddenly would have a similar effect.
“We usually call that daydreaming.”
I acknowledged it. Indeed. Emptying your mind—standing, sitting, or lying still—is something anyone can do if they try. Even if you cannot daydream, letting your mind wander can briefly detach you from the present.
Thinking of it, I remembered myself in the water ball and tried once more to feel that quiet.
The words, scattered across the sea like puzzle pieces, flapped together into a picture, rising and sinking with my thoughts.