I love the ocean, but I don’t know how to swim.
I was put into swimming lessons by my Mother and took to it naturally, but when my parents were divorced, my father never kept them up.
I spent my childhood not more than two blocks from the Atlantic coast, but can remember on one hand the amount of times I have been to the beach there. A lot of coal plants and garbage dumping left the beaches in our area icky and unswimmable, and no one wants to swim in ice cubes anyway.
I always dreamed of the day my skin would feel warm ocean water, and when I moved to the Philippines, I had the luxury of floating and splashing in the Pacific. It was like coming home to a warm, sun-kissed, duvet-covered bed after a long survival trek in Alaska.
One night I was feeling lonely, so I took a bottle of Red Horse and my pack of smokes down to the beach. The ocean at night is one of the most majestic things to ever exist.
You can feel the breadth & depth stretch for miles, surrounding your senses and confounding your thoughts…the sound of ocean waves coupled with silence only night can bring is singular in experience…I sat on the edge of the world with myself, thinking & drinking. I slowly noticed there were lights around me but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from… until I put my hand down to stand up.
Another one of my most cherished memories will always be the bright, otherworldly blue of these impossibly small, beautiful creatures.
I sat for what must have been hours, softly waving my fingers through them, splashing with my toes, and feeling connected to something much larger than myself.
Eventually, one of the workers at the resort came to check on me. It’s considered extremely strange for a person to hang out or go places alone, and so it’s not often I had the opportunity to.
Living in the mountains is lovely… old stone has it’s own respectable energy and flow, but I always find myself becoming extremely restless and frustrated with my life when I’m separated from the sea for too long.
The salt runs pure crystal through my veins, and the tides are so strong they command obedience from my body. Who can ignore the ocean?
When I was younger I was obsessed with the idea of living in a house boat.
I would still love to live in one, however I’m less obsessed with the idea of buying one tomorrow, and I would need to hire a Captain… battling with the sea is not something I consider relaxing or useful.
My grandfather was a Captain. I did not meet him, as his ship was lost at sea. His body was the only person of the crew not found. I like to imagine he faked his own death, and that he is still out in the wide world, exploring and travelling with a greedy lust for life.