She, the Ocean
Lessons from the ocean’s depth, power, and relentless freedom.
There is something about the water.
I’ve been an ocean girl for 42 years. The smell of salt air. The sand, hot and textured beneath my feet. The sound of seagulls overhead. The shoreline: waves crashing as they rumble in and out, rising and falling. Sweeping over rocks, seaweed, shells, pebbles, and glass, turning, recycling the energy she just carried in on her rise. She cleanses, then comes back again. A slow, consistent descent, following a pull that no human has control over.
I find God in the ocean. In her spiritual realm of energy, instinct, and connectedness. My existence feels small in comparison, reminding me of my frailty.
She is powerful, peaceful, still, angry, angelic, mystical, and mysterious. She has depth. She is moody. She speaks a wordless language that screams her mood. She doesn’t need words to connect, to tell her story. She is felt in her rhythm, in her breath that pushes the waves along, in her pull. Some days she whispers peace. Other days, she shrieks warning. There is no language barrier.
She is relentless. She sways to her own tune, unapologetic, ferocious, and free.
She is the fine line between Your Majesty and Your Demise.
She is a teacher. She is a mirror. She is in me, especially when the barriers break down and drift into the tide, softened into driftwood.
She declares space. She invites introspection. She inspires boldness. She flows to the rhythm of her own making. She slips between two rocks and a hard place with ease. Friction does not exist in the ebb and flow of her waves.
She is freedom.
She is.
She.
Me.
🌞 Hanging By a Sunrise
