In a past life I must have been some aquatic entity. Ever since I can remember- say about three years old running naked on the beach, the sound and the smell and the giddy feel of the lapping water on my ankles has stirred me like nothing else. Perhaps it’s some subconscious womb-safety instinct, or even a memory of amoebic evolution, but the sea is my soul-mate. I have always believed that mother earth and father sky are marvels of divine wonder. I am in awe of mighty still mountains, the wild free beasts and watercolor washed sunsets that burn away the day.
Yet, nothing heals me like floating out beyond the waves.
The idea of this tiny fleck of being that is me- suspended on the wet surface of the earth- is enchanting. I breathe slowly and just listen, imagining the wind that blows a visitor from far-off places tirelessly continuing on its antediluvian course.
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