All week I’d felt as though something in my life was out of balance and I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was. It’s been grey and foggy for a long time here, which is romantic and mysterious to be sure, but also oppressive and tiring. It can make you feel claustrophobic. Yesterday I drove out of the city and went to the beach, stood on the edge of the shore. Within minutes all the anger, vexation and fatigue were being drawn out of me, pulled away by the tide and swept far out to sea. I stood quietly for a long time, letting the ocean work its magic. I timidly slipped a few fingers into a wave as it washed up around my boots, and it was frigidly cold, as the North Atlantic promises. Swimming in the ocean here is almost unheard of. Generally the only people that get in the water at Middle Cove, Newfoundland, are the ones swept off the beach by rogue waves, as the waters here are treacherous and unforgiving. It's humbling.
This one hour at the ocean side was not enough. I boarded a boat today and set out for a whale watching tour, honestly excited by the possibility of seeing whales, but really just looking forward to getting away from the land. What is it about the ocean? Something about the swell of the waves, being tossed back and forth, bobbing up and down on the water that makes you feel grounded- however much of an oxymoron that may be. Smelling the salt water, tasting it on your lips and fingers, feeling it on your skin. I’m home now. We did see whales, the water was satisfyingly choppy and my skin is tight and wind burned. I can still feel the waves crashing up and down inside me, and I’m more relaxed than I’ve been in weeks.
