Swell

“For whatever we lose (like a you or a me), it’s always our self we find in the sea.” E.E. Cummings

For some reason, the sea is always linked to loss and grief. Humans have always been drawn to water. The touch of it can heal, relax, soothe our souls in particular moments. We feel that magnetic connection. It makes us dream of falling in love and walking along the shore. We picture ourselves writing memories in the sand, laughing, and gazing at the horizon. We wait for sunsets, dance around fires, and make promises we will never keep.

The sea is everything and nothing. We have crafted metaphors about the tides and waves for thousands of years. We’ve described their sounds and the sirens that sing to us. We’ve narrated tales of monsters and mythical creatures. We’ve recounted epic adventures like the Odyssey. It’s my favourite sea story.

I’ve always felt a connection to this tale. Odysseus was punished, navigating the sea in circles after leaving Ithaca. Poseidon did not forgive him for ten years. In the meantime, Calypso and Circe seduced him, while Penelope, the Queen of Ithaca, waited for him. She knitted, refusing to choose a new suitor until her husband returned. His journey has been translated into books, films, and songs. This story resonated with me since childhood. It shaped my ideals of womanhood and faithfulness. It influenced my belief in the ideal man who would eventually return to the love of his life. I imagined being Penelope, as I carried that name, and she became my alter ego.

I didn’t read much in my youth. Yet, every book left a mark on me. They shaped my thoughts, my narrative. I remember reading that tale over and over; it was beautiful. Eventually, I realized that no king would come to save me. I became a modern Penelope, a flâneuse, embarking on my own journey to discover the world. And yes, I unlearned many romantic beliefs along the way.

Recently, I’ve started walking on the beach again. My doctor advised me to lose some weight. Initially reluctant, I decided to wake early in the morning, just as the sun rises. There’s a cool breeze. The dogs are energetic enough to walk with me, and I see surfers preparing to ride the waves.

The swell at this time of year is fantastic! The waves reach around three meters. They’re perfect. They flow in a poetic rhythm, crashing in slow motion. They leave traces of white foam where little crabs play and hide.

I stumble because I can’t keep my balance anymore. I’ve become a slow walker. I try to feel everything: the sunlight, the breeze, the sand, and the energy of the sea. I am desperate to connect with something, to lift the numbness of another day from my shoulders.

My whole body feels swollen; my feet and legs ache. This is not a poetic swelling but a painful manifestation of trauma after three years of raw suffering. The sea has been the only witness to my pain. I don’t need to explain myself; nature knows. I have been capable of experiencing glimpses of something new. These glimpses have significantly made my life more interesting.

Magic has brought hope and fantasy into my life. I wonder if this is a glimpse of another level of consciousness. Maybe it is a response to cruelty. Or perhaps it’s my mind’s connection to mythological tales. Regardless, it feels like sparkles and fairy dust enveloping and protecting me.