An Ocean Inside of Me

Yesterday, I went snorkeling for the first time.  I had bought a inexpensive mask and snorkel at a local surf shop, Cinnamon Rainbows, and was delighted when an opportunity to try them out presented itself.  The weather in New Hampshire lately has been hot and humid; a trip to the beach was most welcome!  Even with a headache, I was eager to cool off in the water and try out my new gear!

Fortunately for me, a friend who is rather dolphin-like came to the ocean with me.  She showed me how to attach the snorkel to my mask so that I wouldn't just suck up sea water, and she let me test-drive her dear husband's flippers.  I felt adventurous as I flippered backwards into the ocean, headache and all... I was longing for the cool Atlantic water and hoping it would cool my entire body.  I was also looking forward to seeing some things under the water.

Thus began my wrestling match with the ocean.

I entered the water and put my face down, the waves rolling into the beach.  I had difficulty breathing through the snorkel at first; mouth breathing is not instinctive, especially with one's face under the water.  My mind took a moment to protest - "No!  Underwater!  No breathing!" and I was momentarily startled by the strength of my instincts.  It took a moment to convince my mind that it was okay, that I was volunteering for this process.  I began to breathe.  In through my mouth, out through my mouth.

A wave rolled over me.  I felt tossed, and seawater sloshed into my snorkel.  I swallowed it, and quickly found my flippered footing, poking my head above the water.  My goggles were foggy, and I couldn't see.  I pulled them off of my eyes, snorkel still in my mouth, and felt the salt sting.  Another wave crashed over me, and pushed me backwards.  I lost my footing in the flippers and bobbed along, uncontrolled.  It took a moment, and I finally gained footing again, a bit tossed but in a good mood.

I pulled my goggles down again, took a breath and tried again to snorkel.  My initial instincts were quieted faster, and I was able to float along and breathe.  This time, I found myself bobbing with the waves.  The sand flowed with the water in front of me; all I saw was the green of the ocean with the brilliant silver sparkles of sand in front of me.  A bit disoriented, I found myself feeling pushed along by the ocean, up and down, up and down.  The rocking began to settle into my stomach and I felt it rocking - up and down, up and down.  I tried to find direction and paddle with the flippers, making a little headway.  A wave rolled over me and I bobbed out of the water.

Disoriented and a little seasick, I found my footing again, raised my goggles, and looked around.  My friend was gracefully exploring the waves, flowing along with the rhythm of the ocean.  I rallied myself and recommitted to the process.  I wanted to try diving under the waves instead of letting them whack against me.

Diving was a success, for the most part.  Though the flippers were unfamiliar, they did help me swim in a unique way, making me feel almost mermaid like.  I bobbed along, trying to snorkel with foggy goggles, disoriented by the sand and the green water and the waves but enjoying the cool ocean.  As I bobbed along, I realized that I was slightly seasick.  I bobbed more, snorkeled more, and swallowed more sea water.  Tossed and rolled by the waves, I was having fun, but increasingly getting more seasick.

I threw up seawater.  It felt like the ocean was trying to become part of me, and that I was somehow working to integrate the ocean inside of me.  As if I was going through some sort of reset at the cellular level.  We are all made of water and salt and at a cellular level; as a Midwestern girl, I am familiar with river water and lake water; ocean water is an entirely different thing, a different vibration and energy.  It almost felt like, by filling my body with seawater and creating an ocean inside of me, the ocean was laying claim to me and the water inside of me in an entirely different way.

I finished my day at the beach sitting in the surf, experiencing the waves crash against me while wearing my goggles.  Seasick and wobbly, I made my way with my friend back to the car to change clothes and continue on with the evening. 

Since yesterday, I feel like I am integrating the ocean inside of me.  My stomach wouldn't allow me to eat much at dinner, and even today I have been treading lightly, trying to prevent further upset as the ocean works through me, at a cellular level.

I'm not really sure what it means to have the ocean inside of me, but I do feel like an introduction is happening, that the water in my cells that are made from Midwestern soil, from spaces that were once ancient ocean, is greeting now the ocean that connects the world, the ocean I unwittingly and unintentionally swallowed, the ocean that wrestled me yesterday and introduced me to new and wonderful and powerful aspects of itself.

Much gratitude to the ocean, to the sunny day, to my Dolphin-esque Sea-swimming friend. I learned a lot on a physical, cellular level yesterday.  Though I was in a process, I felt safe - I'm a good swimmer, and I could touch the bottom, and though disoriented was aware enough to take care of myself.  Even so, I was in a process!  I can't wait to swim in the ocean again!!!