We assume mountain lovers are all about the zen. But sea lovers know that the zen is also in the changing tides and the still sand.

Children of the water remember that happiness is not the same as cheer or even calm at all times. And that life is about the being, the high tides, the still centers, the whirlpools around and the sighing sand after a wave has washed.

We know that there’s no reprieve in escape because there is no such thing as running away. Not on a planet that is round & where most of it is water. All acceptance is, is remembering we’re the same.

The sea does not say goodbye or hello. It doesn’t recognise you because that means to say we are different. There’s only becoming one and this is in the roaring of each drop, the comforting blanket of each tide. We do not hear screams when there is harmony, only music.

The beach tells our stories. And just like words, electric impulses, chemical reactions & transmuting cells, the footprints wash away. We are canvas and we are paint and we are artists and we are art. To love the sea is to remember that we are.


One of the things I’m most thankful for, is that I live on a tropical island. That I inhabit that twilight space between water & land. And that the elements never wage war on me to make me need shields of clothing or intoxication in order to commune with the sea. I stand on the sand & the noise of the crowd settles into the natural music of my city. Waves, traffic, splashes, plastic crunches, thunder, car horns, rain, waves, water, me.


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