2008-03-28
sea and sun
I admire the ocean. It's so massive and grandiose. There's nothing like it. The ocean is much, much greater than me. It's terrifying, looking out at it. I gripped the railing tight, fingernails gnawing into the wood. The underside was sprinkled with salt that had swooshed up from the water beneath. I watch the waves dance. It is free-form clashing and swishing, beautiful as a ballet, just as graceful. It's frothy and gargantuan and glorious. "Life is like the surf, so give yourself away to the sea." I want to, but I've never been so afraid and entranced by anything. The ebb and the flow.
The cruise stopped at four different ports. I didn't particularly enjoy any of them, because the ship only docked for five hours each time. That's just enough time for you to dabble in the highly tourist activities. I realize I was there as a spectator, and that's inherent to my situation. But I wanted their perspective of it, not my own. The tip of the iceberg is really frustrating. I only get a glimpse of their world, and it's probably an illusion that I see. Maybe some time I will go to inland Mexico, where it broils and the ocean is amiss. I'd like to go places less conscientious of my presence, trying to capitalize on me with pleasant facade.
Besides the sea, my second love was the sun. The warmth washes over me synonymously to the sea water. The heat enveloped my skin and with my eyes closed, I listened to the crashing of the waves, visualizing the myriad of minuscule molecules banging into one another, all that tremendous kinetic energy. It was like meditation, the minimalism I reduced my mind to. Sea and sun. I am one.
I've been easier on myself lately and it's been healthy. I'm probably in love. If and when I find some way to write about that here, I will. My school is expensive. I'm going to start running again. I'm going to write my poetry free of judgment, or at least try to. Here comes spring. It always manages to somehow be a vexing time of year. But today I'm home in Kalispell with the mountains. Tomorrow will be good too.
leesah-likes at 12:33 p.m.