It’s grey and moody and sultry. It’s deceptively calm. I walk in feeling like a super model giraffe like creature. Pacific, what is your lesson for me today? I feel an undercurrent back pull, like a lovers firm grip on my lower leg.
‘I want you. I want you. Come with me. Come.’
Nervously, I obey the murky ocean and I trust, even when I can not see the creatures of the deep, even when I am unsure and unknowing of the nature of the next wave.
Ocean meditation. I move my body to the sound of the vibration of the next wave. In the Pacific ocean that is all I can do. A form of reverence. A deeper trust of that which I can not control.
It feels like a lullaby. Like the rocking of a cot as I am held by the back pull and propelled by the forthcoming and relentless waves.
I ask her if I may leave? Playfully she lets me go, knowing fully the swell of her surf, the impossible of making her tame and the the power of her own seduction.
You can never leave. You have only one taste. The taste of the Pacific Ocean.