Fishing for Positivity

I used to fish for positivity. And I would come up empty.

          The ocean of my mind was full of negativity. The waves brimmed with horrid, black, scaled things that smelt like death and tasted like tar. They would curdle the waters, frothing and foaming. Blue waves would turn black, writhing and wriggling. 

          And there was the old kraken, of course, with his obsidian tentacles and wicked words that dragged me beneath the waves. I would fall to the bottom, ship sinking, light dimming, tentacles draining, until I was numb and nothing. And all I had was negativity. 

          It built and built, until I couldn’t take any more: a swarming school of negativity, of despair, of hopelessness. Sometimes, I would see a flash of positivity. A dart of green, or yellow, monkfishes of music or witch soles of writing. They would stay for a while. But never for long. Once I put down my computer or my clarinet, the negativity would return, worse than ever. And the kraken would rise again and take me to new depths, further than before. 

          I wanted something more. I wanted change. I wanted positivity. 

          It took a long time to find positivity. Weeks. Months. Years. I cast my line so many times, only catching dabs of doubt, carps of criticism, mullets of missed opportunities, or anchovies of anxiety. The little tiny tuna, the pinpricks of positivity I did catch, were soon swallowed by the kraken, who was always quick to remind me how I would fail. It would start up my stutter, steal interview answers from my lips, rob me of thoughts, until my mind froze. 

          I was about to give up. But friends came to my aid. Old gods helped me learn new tricks, new lines, new bait. New goddesses helped me find my soul and helped me practise in their oceans. And ancient spirits guided me to new spots. Soon, I started catching the cod of confidence, slowly, surely. Old gods gave me spells to keep the kraken away, working on my words till I had them flowing as easily as the tides. I tried again, and again, line swishing, net ready, throwing back eels of envy. I tried new bait and hauled in haddocks of hope. I kept at it, nets full of dover soles of determination, flounders of faith, and squids of self-belief. Until one day, I caught two paradise fish of positivity. And from then on, positivity flocked to my shores. 

          These days, my ocean is filled with positivity. Beautiful, colourful fish that smell divine and taste succulent. They shimmer in the sea; making the waves turn red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, pink, silver, gold. They swim with grace, making the waters calm, the sea serene, and the waves hopeful. They’ve flocked to my shore, this year more than most, and I have savoured and delighted over each one. I’ve caught octopuses of opportunity, pikes of permanent roles, hakes of happiness, cods of confidence, and even plaices of publication.

          Sometimes, I do still catch negativity. It wouldn’t be life if I didn’t. For they have lived in the sea of my mind for so long. Of course, they wouldn’t go quietly. They haven’t gone, not completely, still writhing in the waters to the North, in the kingdom of the kraken. They just don’t turn up in my nets as often. And if they do, I can always throw them back. I don’t have to dwell on them or devour them anymore. 

          And of course, the kraken still surfaces; when the seasons change, at Moorfields, near Christmas, or before starting a new project. But we have an understanding. I’ve got to know him better. And he’s not so bad after all. He only tries to keep me safe. To protect me, as he always has. Perhaps I didn’t see it before. But I do now. 

          We signed a peace treaty, for him only to feast on my soul once a month, and to only sink my ship when necessary. And not to eat the fish of positivity. We get on better now. I barely have any trouble from him these days. 

          As I approach the new year, my ocean is filled with positivity. The kraken looms, as always. But perhaps he is wrong. Perhaps Moorfields are wrong. Perhaps I have more time. Who knows? Sure these recent changes don’t bode well. But perhaps my central vision will not vanish just yet. I hold tight to the haddocks of hope. Even if the fangtooths of fear keep landing in my net. I cannot dwell on things I cannot control or on events that may not even happen. I can only live with what I have, with the vision I have, in the days I have. 

          For I know next year will be full of good things. And so will the next. And the next. Perhaps the last decade has been full of negativity. But I have a feeling that this decade will be full of positivity. I can feel it. Something in the air. Something in my heart. Something in my soul. And I feel different: lighter, freer, happier. For my life is finally headed in the right direction, my ship sailing smoothly on the waters. And my little ship does not sail alone anymore. I know I have a whole armada behind me. I have a fleet of support, of friends, of colleagues, of writers, of gods, of magic and wonder. 

          Perhaps life won’t always be plain sailing, and the kraken may still rise. Perhaps sometimes, I will catch more negativity. But I know now that positivity is possible, and I can always find it again. All I have to do is fish.