Tempestuous Seas

There was a storm brewing today, the wind picked up, the smell in the air changed, and the seas were capped with tufts of white, the swells rising, falling in on themselves as they raced towards shore. And so my siren song was sung, tempestuous seas, stiff strong winds whipping the waves into a frenzy, crashing into the sand with a sound like an approaching throng of militants beating their shields in warning. And still I was drawn to enter the fray, to get thrown and thrashed myself. Why? Why not I say. Perhaps to feel the power of the salt water surrounding me, to feel atomically small, to feel as if at any moment I could be swallowed.

It’s hard to explain, to quantify in any reasonable, rational, or even logical way. I didn’t want to be swallowed, but still I entered, diving into the waves to pop up and feel as if I had the whole ocean in front of me, between the swells as if mountains of water surrounded me, as if there was nothing else but me and the waves, the water surrounding, enveloping me in its violent embrace. And still I lingered, one more minute, ten, twenty, fingers going numb, my core aching from treading water, and I felt more alive and at peace, still amidst the thrum, settled and secure, than in the craziness of life. The sirens called and I answered, but I escaped at the end, to enter the world of land above the waves. It’s not often I get to experience the stormy waves, but when I do, I can’t get enough, as tired as I get, a part of me begs for more.