In the blue-blue sea there lived a fish called Self-fish. What a strange name, you might say. Who gives such a name? Well, it’s actually a whole group of fish. They are called “Self-fish” by other sea creatures who are sure about themselves that they don’t belong to this category.
She knew very well who she was – Self-fish. Of that she was reminded daily.
“Stop thinking about yourself all the time. You never care about others,” the others chided.
“Why are you looking at yourself all the time?”
“If you weren’t Self-fish, you would have had more compassion on our poor nerves.”
“Why am I Self-fish?” thought Self-fish. “I have to change. From now on I will think about others all the time.”
And that’s what she did. Tired of being shamed and blamed, she decided she would be looking out for the interest of others. She was hoping that others would start appreciating her more and more and would finally stop calling her Self-fish. But the more she tried to please them, the less they seemed pleased. In fact, they blamed her all the more. “You should think more about others and less about yourself! Shame on you, Self-fish.”
“What’s happening?” thought Self-fish. “It’s not working. Am I so hopeless?” And so, she doubled and even tripled her efforts. But the more she tried, the less it worked. Finally, she got so exhausted and hopeless of pleasing others that she flung up her fins in utter desperation: “I must be doomed. I was born a Self-fish and I will die a Self-fish.”
“Die hard,” said a crayfish who lived next door and whose name happened to be Bruce Willis.
“What do you mean?” asked Self-fish in bewilderment.
“Nothing. Just talking to myself,” grunted Bruce Willis clipping off a seaweed with his sharp claw. “What’s your problem?”
“I am,” replied Self-fish, “I am Self-fish.”
“No worries,” said Bruce Willis, “have a coffee.” And he handed her a Frappuccino.
“You know what? Stop trying to save the world,” finally said Bruce Willis after a pause. “It never works. Believe me, I know. No matter how many times you try to save the world, it always gets back in a mess.”
“Hm…,” said Self-fish, “but if I stop trying to save the world, wouldn’t it be selfish?”
“Selfish is as selfish does,” replied Bruce Willis. “To be selfless, you must first have a Self that you can give up. There is a world of difference between giving up yourself and giving up on your Self.”
“What do you mean?” asked Self-fish in utter amazement.
“You must first become who you are. Become Self-fish.”
“But….but….I am that already!”
“You see, if you don’t have a Self, you are not really a Self-fish. And to have a Self, you must start looking at yourself before you look at others. Look at your Self!”
“But if I keep looking at myself, I will be more Self-fish.”
“Trust me on that,” said Bruce grimly and gave her a look that couldn’t be resisted.
So, Self-fish looked at herself but didn’t see much to look at.
“What do you see?” asked Bruce.
“Nothing special,” replied Self-fish.
“Just keep looking. Just keep looking.”
“There’s nothing to look at,” finally said Self-fish and turned her eyes away, “it’s just me.”
“Just keep looking.”
“What’s there to see?”
“Don’t you see… a kid?
“Yes, a scared little kid. A kid who was left all alone in the dark. Believe me, I have met that kid once. A long time ago.”
“Old story,” said Bruce.
“I see her,” suddenly exclaimed Self-fish and felt the salty tears welling up in her eyes. It seemed to her that up to this day she had been swimming in the ocean of tears.
“Good. Now take her gently by the fin. Hold tight. And never let her go. No matter what. Don’t leave her. You are her mommy now. And one day, she will be ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“To take on the world.”
“Have to go,” said Bruce Willis, “there’s another Apocalypse nearby. Remember to always look at her and never-ever-ever let her go, no matter what the others say.”
And then Bruce hopped on his cool Yamaha jetski and was off in a flash.
Sure enough, the “others” showed up in no time.
“Hey, what are you up to?” snapped the red snapper.
“Nothing … just looking at myself,” replied Self-fish.
“Shame on you, Self-fish,” snapped the snapper. “Always looking at yourself.”
For a brief moment Self-fish stopped looking at herself and started looking at the snapper. Suddenly she felt she was blushing from gill to tail. She was almost about to blurt out a funny joke or two so as to divert his attention – the art she had mastered so well – but then something made her choke on her own words. She distinctly heard a small little voice coming from inside her.
“Don’t leave me,” it said.
“What?” echoed Self-fish and looked at herself intently. And then she saw a little baby fish left alone in a dark cave and trembling all over. She looked so little and so miserable that Self-fish immediately wanted to look away, get busy, invite the red snapper to dinner, hide in her little hole at the bottom of the sea – do anything so as to not think about it anymore.
But something made her look. She didn’t even know what. It was so hard not to turn away, and yet there was something very beautiful about that little one. She had eyes full of ocean-like sadness. And there was a great big void. And the void was so deep and wide and empty that one could easily drown in it. It was like a gaping abyss in the crevice of time, an insatiable black hole sucking everything in with its irresistible gravity. It was at once a pack of hungry wolves, a mighty hurricane, a raging ocean, and a gentle flower. And there was beauty in it. Soft light was peeping out of that void. It was coming from within, as if it belonged to the void itself. And this light shone out of the vast emptiness and there was life in it. And in this light, there was something one could gaze upon hours and hours on end. There was a river of peace flowing out of it, and a warm embrace of utter tranquility and healing. There was a desperate cry as well as a dance of joy. There was profound sorrow as well as a whiff of tingling freshness. There was an ugly wound and a well of inner harmony. There was at once Chaos and Order, as if fashioned by the hand of a masterful Artist.
“Don’t leave me,” asked the kid again.
“I am here. I am looking at you,” said Self-fish, “and I will not leave you.”
The little one stopped trembling and looked up. Self-fish took her by the little fin and together they went shopping. She was constantly looking at her, and the kid seemed to transform before her very eyes. The longer she looked at her, the calmer and the happier the kid grew. And with this calmness and peace settled over the little one, Self-fish totally forgot about others. She was alone in the world, but for the first time in her life she felt fine in her own company.
She was alone, and yet she wasn’t lonely. She was by herself, and yet she was keenly aware that there was someone else with her. As she spoke gently to the kid, it seemed to her that she was hearing another gentle voice speaking to her through her own words. And as that kind voice filled her heart and mind, she grew calmer, and stronger, and happier.
“Who are you?” she asked and looked around in amazement.
And from the unfathomable depths of her Self she heard a still small voice saying:
“Don’t look away. I am not out there, I am in here.”
She looked at her kid again, and suddenly it seemed to her that she saw another baby far-far away in a cold dark cave, and his mother rocking him gently in a manger and humming a familiar tune.
“I am not out there, I am in here,” repeated the small little voice. “Just keep looking. Just keep looking.”
She drew closer, looking into the darkness of the cave, and fixed her gaze upon him.
And as she looked, the darkness of the cave receded like a mighty tidal wave, and a soft light poured from inside of the void filling it up to the brim. And her ocean-like sadness shook and gave way to a quiet sigh of relief. And the salty tears she swam in for years became a bubbling brook of healing waters. And out of the gaping hole on the inside came a beautiful song – the song of the void.
“Nice song,” commented someone passing by.
“Bruce!” exclaimed Self-fish. “It’s so good to see you!”
“And you. You look radiant.”
“You know I’ve seen him.”
“So, I see you are ready to take on the world,” said he and pointed to the empty seat in his jetski.
She laughed, hopped on, and off they went into the big wide blue.
Evgeny Terekhin, May 21, 2018.