Voice Over: Kevin

Y’know, people always talk about the light. Like it’s the end-all, be-all of the spiritual gig. “Go toward the light,” they say. “Find your inner glow.” I used to be one of ‘em. Thought if I just caught the right wave, held the right pose, I could ride it straight to enlightenment. But let me tell you something, man. That ain’t the whole story. Not by a long shot.

You ever sit in the lineup at dawn, waiting for the swell, when the sun hasn’t cracked the horizon just yet? There’s this moment… this inky, endless moment… where you’re suspended between the promise of light and the pull of dark. That’s where I live now. That space in-between.

Pauses, staring off, as if he's trying to untangle some hidden truth.

I had a wipeout. Fell over the board and got pulled into the wash cycle for too long. Heart stopped, soul punched its ticket. People talk about death like it’s some great revelation. A tunnel of light, angels with harps, maybe a big ol’ cosmic hug from the universe. Not for me. You know what I saw when I checked out? Nothing. Just black. Not peaceful or quiet. A cold, crawling darkness, like the ocean at midnight, dragging you down.

And there was something in it. Something hungry. Watching me, sizing me up. I don’t know why it let me come back—maybe it thought I was a good ride. Maybe it just wanted to see what’d happen. But it followed me like a stray that doesn't take no for an answer. Only this thing? It ain’t no lost puppy. It’s older than time and twice as mean. Sticks to me like tar on a board. It’s here right now. It’s always here.

It’s like some ancient hitchhiker, man. And no matter how many asanas I do, it’s still there, lurking in the corners of my mind. Watching, whispering things I don’t wanna hear. After a not-brief dance with most drugs you know of and some you might not, I couldn’t burn out the parts of me where it was hiding. I tried to meditate with it. That’s what yoga teaches, right? Stillness. Acceptance. Control. But you can’t namaste your way outta hell when hell's already moved in.

Leans forward slightly, the glint of desperation in his eyes softening as he smiles faintly, rueful.

Thing is… darkness isn’t just bad karma. It’s not a punishment or a curse. It’s part of the deal. The light doesn’t erase the dark, and the dark doesn’t snuff out the light. They need one another. They dance, man. They flow. And sometimes… sometimes in the middle of the whirlpool you find something. Not pretty. Not easy. But real.

I don’t know if I’ll ever shake this… thing. Whatever it is that followed me back. It’s like bad karma that’s grown teeth. People around me, they don’t always stick. They get hurt. Bad things happen, and I can feel it… feel it… pulling the strings. And yet… here I am. Found myself this little crew. A tribe. People who don’t run screaming when the shadows get long.

Maybe they’re my light. Not some golden glow from above, but the kind of light you make yourself when the world’s pitch black. A tiny spark that says, “Yeah, man, it’s dark. But you’re not alone.”

Maybe they’re crazy. Ok, they’re definitely crazy. But maybe they see something I don’t. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I belong somewhere. Like maybe this bad karma of mine isn’t the whole story.