Of Sea and Salt and Sand
I grew up on the Puget Sound, with sea water in view and the sound of gulls in my ears each day. Mine is a coastal folk, whether from Scotland or Ireland or Sweden, always near the water if not on it. The ocean delineates the boundaries of all I know, a comforting velvet rope marking the edges of my life and the adventures that will take place once I get from here to there.
I’ve never lived more than two hours from the Pacific Ocean. Not being near a body of water that large is like sleeping alone in a king size bed – when you’re in the middle of it you can’t stick your foot or arm out and know “ah yes, there’s the edge.” Out here in the Pacific Northwest, the ocean is my main geographical reference point. I know its shape as British Columbia becomes Washington becomes Oregon and moves on through California to become Mexico and South America. It tells me that our borders don’t matter, that the sea endures when these borders change and are washed away by the next tide.
Whether it’s on a sandy beach in Oceanside or the black pahoehoe of Hawai’i, facing the enormity of the ocean is sublime. No matter who or what we are in life, we all came from those briny depths. Oceans contain us and give us form, challenge us to cross them, soothe us to sleep, threaten to unmake us.
Without them, we are nothing.
Posted May 6, 2009