I now know what it feels like to be sloshed about in a washing machine. I went to the beach today and got tossed about like a strip of seaweed. I loved every minute of it. There is something utterly humbling about the ocean. He reminds me that I'm just an insignificant speck in the great scheme of things, he reminds me of just how great God is.
I was with my little cousins, who both stood in awe of the tumbling walls of water, clutching onto my hands, shrieking in glee while simultaneously shying away from the salty onslaught. "Be afraid," I told them, "It's good to be afraid. The sea will swallow you up if you don't be afraid. But, don't you think it's lovely?" I honestly don't think they understood much of that - but I suppose my tone enlightened them, because I felt their hands tighten against mine, saw their shoulders relax, and watched the excitement dance across their faces. Pretty soon they were diving into the small waves and surfacing in coughs and splutters, with eyes screwed tight against the sting, reaching out blindly for my hands to anchor them against the forceful pull - and they always found them. How I loved to see their appreciation of my wonderful beach. I almost wanted to sing - but, we all know that would have been a terrible idea.
Soon, they grew tired and retired to the sand. And I found myself free to pursue one of my greatest pleasures. Wadding in deeper, against the incoming tide, my legs and arms grew weary keeping me upright. The waves were tall, the current strong, the salt stung my eyes and I couldn't stop the happiness creeping into my veins. I reached a spot, between the waves, the calm before they go from huge arches into crashing torrents that gain momentum till they reach the shoreline. And I waited. I didn't want the numerous waves buffering against my waist, pulling me towards the shore in a not-so-gentle tug. I just wanted one. One perfect wave.So I waited.
And when it came, I smiled. Oh it was beautiful. It was a crescendo of silence, speeding towards me at an uncomfortable speed. It wasn't so huge that I was terrified, but it was big enough to remind me to be afraid. "Are you ready?" it almost seemed to whisper. And then just before it crashed over me, I hurled myself right into it - it is a sensation like no other. I was enveloped in a cacophony of muted noise. My heart rate spiked, my body was thrown and twisted together, propelled through the water: a vast ocean, that seemed like a tiny box. Claustrophobic, I thought, this is what it feels like to be claustrophobic. Scream? No, don't be stupid. Don't open your mouth. Don't you dare. It was everywhere. I was everywhere all at once. Where was my hand? Where were my legs? Which way was the blue, blue sky? In that moment, where I didn't know where my world was, or where I was in relation to it; where I had no concept of space or gravity; where my senses were assaulted from every direction; where my breath was caught in my throat and my mind was frozen from the numbing realisation, that I was utterly trivial; in that moment where every part of me was a slave to the raw power of nature...I was Alive.
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