“I think I hear a dolphin” Max smiles excitedly as he surfaces from beneath the swell of waves by the jetty and, although his diving mask is still fixed like a sea star to his sun seared face, I can see his eyes are glowing, “but I think it’s a long way off”.
As he speaks Issy is already pointing to where tell-tale ripples and the eruption of a slate grey dorsal fin are clearly visible – not ten feet from us. “There it is” she gasps. Her loosely platted brunette hair swirling around her echoing the movements of the dancing sea plants below.
After our ungainly attempts to get closer, which involve rather more mal-coordinated splashing than progress towards our goal, the dolphin easily and gracefully gives us the slip, then disappears into the deep.
Everytime I am by the ocean I feel profoundly moved. It is like coming home, no matter where I am. There is something eternal and ethereal about it. It doesn’t care about your 9-5 job, your taxes, or your new iPhone. It transcends triviality and demands your respect.
The ocean can destroy you with its terrible creatures and powerful waves, or it can reveal wonderful secrets and visions of awe-inspiring beauty.
Sometimes I go to the sea to meditate. After a time the rhythm of the breaking waves seems to be in perfect synchronicity with my own breathing and in those precious moments, everything is calm and at peace.