The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears or the sea. Isak Dinesen
I confess that I am deeply in love with the sea. The tides pull on me in the same way that the moon pulls on them. I have a clock in my house that tells me when the tide is flooding or ebbing. I look at it constantly. Tomorrow morning I will be back at the water's edge - watching sunrise and high tide combined. What a glorious combination.
At times in my life when I need to be alone I go to the sea. When I want to think about my father I will watch the ebb and flow of the tides. When I can't be at the sea I dream about it. I dream about vast beaches on distant planets where the tide only comes in and goes out every 500 years. I dream about the smell of the sea air on those planets. A vague and elusive memory that grows with huge noise of crashing waves when the ocean turns and begins its long journey back to the shore.
There is no reason for my addiction that I can offer as an explanation. I do not sail and it has been years since I last caught a fish. Perhaps it is the power and the fury of a storm that enchants me. Perhaps it is the deep dark beauty. Perhaps it is the restless nature of the sea, constantly moving like a forgotten warrior searching for his one true love. Whatever the reason, it has a hold on me and I cannot tear myself free, nor do I want to.