I never thought I would say that I feel at home on the ocean, but after a few sailing trips – Boston Malaga on clipper Stad Amsterdam in 2014 being the culmination – anytime I meet that vast body of water, I’m Okay.
Never mind the roaring terror of force ten at night. Or huge ocean waves picking up a thousand tons of steel and sails like it is a simple yacht.
It is the vastness, the magnitude that caught my heart and sometimes my breath.
Whenever I meet the ocean, I am happy. The beauty of the light, the colours, the movement. Superb. And best of all is that sudden glimpse of a tint somewhere between green and blue. When the light shines through the crest of a breaking wave like sunshine through a glass of wine when bringing it to your mouth. More alive than anything, uncatchable.
And there is another thing. I am aware – like a physical presence – where I am in relation to the edges of that ocean. The magic of touching the waterline and knowing that the next stop is Antarctica. Or seeing the Pacific for the first time and being aware that I am touching on the other half of the world, the never before seen part of it.
I am also aware that both my father and my grandfather had a relationship with the ocean. One as a sailor, the other as a very inquisitive artist. I have a bit of both.
So when I look at the ocean, I’m Okay.