My Wonder Place

"The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever."

- Jaques Yves Cousteau

I’m sitting on the beach right now, smelling the sea and feeling the breeze and sunshine. I don’t know how much longer I will get to have this opportunity to be close to the ocean, so today seems like a good time for a thirty-minute drive to be here.

It's unclear exactly when my love affair with the water began - possibly as a toddler on the beaches of southern England. There are pictures of me running around in a black and white striped swimsuit, clearly delighted. I know that this is something I will miss when the time comes to return to the landlocked prairie. I can make a lake or river do as a substitute, but it can’t replace the ocean with any conviction. The water smell might be there, but it won't have that salt tickle high in my sinuses with the rhythm of the waves and wind.

I can see freighters far out in the bay, so heavy and slow that they hardly seem to move. There is a lull here. Everything must adapt to the breath of the sea. The tide is out, so the gulls and shorebirds are whitish commas scattered across lines of seagrass text. A while ago a brazen gull came to demand food and stayed long enough for a few pictures of his accusing eyes. I’m not completely sure what called me here insistently today. Possibly a desire to disconnect and enjoy the last contemplative days I will have before work resumes in a week. It is a less picturesque beach than some, but I didn’t really need a lot today. I just needed to hear it, smell it, touch it, and remember what this feels like.

The wind and surf whisper compellingly to me, calming and wiping away all the practicalities that keep me bound on an ordinary day. I think that may be the magic of the ocean. It washes away the frantic. I can’t feel any sense of urgency when I’m here. That seems such a luxury. I am sad how I had to justify this little escape. It shouldn’t be so hard to schedule pondering pauses in magical places, but it is. Too easily I worry about neglecting my lists. I had to negotiate for this hour of peace. I’m glad the sea won.

Trevor has an ancestress from Altona, Denmark, not far from Hamburg.  Her family lived on a deep port of the river in a region that swapped back and forth between nations in the last two centuries. Her father was a mariner. She married a mariner and then gave birth to mariners. I wonder what that life was like, sending loved ones off to sea for months and years at a time. Did she stand by the harbour sometimes watching and wishing for the water to be kind? Did she seek comfort and calming in the soft hush of that place?

I know it isn’t always like this. There are times when it’s not a friendly escape. I have been on a shore at those times. Then the cold is biting and fierce, the rain throws icy needles of pain. If you linger too long, your fingers become stiff and slow. All you want is to be warm again. The ocean always dictates how to feel. It takes the need to decide from your hands and says, “This is what I’m doing today. Stay if you wish, but you better adapt. I’m not changing my mind.” On those days I'd like to dream of standing behind a window and watching. But the sea always says those words; even on sunny days like today.

I should go. The air is cooling off already. Soon the warmth will be gone and it won’t feel as comfortable to stay. But I’m glad I came. Today is just enough to remind me why a sea is a spiritual place. It’s a connection to all I am and all I can become. It reinforces the otherness that will always live inside me. Time to say goodbye for now.