Dipping my foot in the Mediterranean Sea was one of the unexpected pleasures I experienced when I was in Italy. It was a very cold wet November day when I did it, but it wasn’t an opportunity I was going to pass up. It was a connection to the past, a connection to other people, a connection to who I was, and a connection to where I am from. Perhaps some of my ancestors had fished these waters. Certainly generations of my family have fished the Pacific Ocean and the “Sounds’ that are a part of it (one of the definitions of a “sound” in the Webster’s Dictionary: “A long, wide ocean inlet”).
I grew up on beaches, on boat docks, on fishing boats, with my feet in the ocean. My personality and identity has been shaped by those experiences: patience, an awareness of the impermanent nature of life, flexibility, tolerance, and a connection with the environment and with the food chain.
I am most at peace when I smell the salt air, or hear the seagulls cry but I also have a great respect for the power and the dangers the ocean present. I am always in awe that there were individuals crazy enough or brave enough to set off in a boat on the ocean, not knowing where they might end up. I don’t feel small when I look out at the ocean, but rather an appreciation of what a miracle we all are. And when I wade into the Pacific Ocean I feel connected to the world.