I often refer to myself as a “water baby” when talking to people about my fascination with the sea. Although I was born in south Texas, I don’t really remember much about the ocean. But at 52 years old now, I know that it draws me in, and I treasure every opportunity to return to its calm, relaxing, magical embrace. As an adult I’ve visited the ocean a handful of times, most recently on cruise ships, and every time I get antsy as we draw near (if I’m awake, that is. I have a tendency to fall asleep in the passenger seat). I’ve never really been able to understand the pull, but there’s just something inside me that needs to be near the sea. One thing I do know, though, is that the sea tends to drown out the mundane. When I’m at the ocean, the rest of the world tends to fade away a little bit. Whether I’m swimming, walking at the edge of the beach, or sitting in the shallows, digging through the sand, it feels like home… like belonging.
Magical is really the only way I can describe the feeling of being on the water, especially on a cruise ship. The sudden freedom and lack of cares is one of the greatest feelings one can experience. Once the ship leaves port and makes its way out into the open ocean, it’s almost as if Walt Disney swooped down (or out, if you believe the cryochamber rumors), scooped you up, and dropped you right into the middle of a fairy tale, where you’re the star. It gives new meaning to the term “passenger princess.” Then… the sun goes down, you step out onto your balcony, and just watch the waves roll past as the ship gently sways back and forth. It’s a sensation of just being carried away from your troubles. And time? Yeah. Time moves differently at sea, especially when you’re in no hurry (unlike my wife, who usually wants to micromanage the schedule). Time moves slower… gentler.
Then there’s the rich hues of the sea, that can’t be found anywhere else in nature, really. The shifting shades of navy and turquoise water, churning with glassy silver and whit froth as the ship cuts through the waves, are true beauty. Watching the waves roll and crash against each other, and the sides of the ship, is enchanting… almost hypnotic. In fact, I’ve found that relaxing on a patio at night, and just listening to the sounds of the untamed sea, becomes a sort of meditation. There’s no better way to let go of the world you left behind when you stepped on that gangplank.
After a day or so, the crash of the waves becomes a soundtrack to one of the most relaxing experiences, and the ancient, familiar echoes grip your soul and transports you into a world of wonder, curiosity, and amazement. Even without being born near the sea, there’s an inherent pull, as if part of the DNA. And when you stop to think about what lies just beneath the surface of those waves… from the multiple types of fish, turtles, and other lifeforms swimming alongside to the possibility of centuries of treasures dropped overboard by some ancient seafarer… it’s like having a museum in your head!
If nothing else, the sea is a reminder to us all… to slow down, to listen to our inner voices and nature, and to simply breathe. It helps us remember what’s important in life. It helps us clear the clutter from our work-driven minds, and reconnect with our true selves. That why I keep going back.
The sea? It’s not just a place I go to visit a couple times a year. I’m one of the “Sea People.” It’s home!
