Oh Ocean!
The following was written for the Sunday Scribblings prompt, ocean.
The back burner on my stove makes a faint whine that reminds me of a foghorn. Its deep and distant drone is like a lullaby I remember from my childhood. “The ships are all safe and the children are warm and loved,” it seems to say. I wait for the lighthouse to swing its spotlight by and shine on me. But I don’t live there anymore.
When it’s foggy where I live now on Virginia’s Blue Ridge Parkway, the rolling hills can almost look like the ocean with wave upon wave rippling out into the horizon. The vultures and crows could almost be gulls, and the twinkling lights from Martinsville could be those of Revere Beach on the north shore of Boston.
I like the salty smell and taste of sweat on my skin when I’m working in the garden in the summer because it reminds me of the ocean and the bay I swam in as a girl. Immersed in the salty water then, I used to wonder what it would be like to meet a mermaid or to make a raft strong enough to travel the length of Hull, the narrow 6 mile Massachusetts peninsula that was my home.
The ocean is in my blood, but not all my memories of it are fond. As a teenager, sometimes I would sit on the seawall at night and stare out. I felt lonely and small against the bigness of it, immobilized by the monotonous lapping of the tide against the shore. At those times, the ocean was like a blank slate where nothing existed and the foghorn sounded hollow and desolate. Even on a clear night, a full moon boldly hanging, causing the water to shimmer wasn’t enough to cheer me up.
Five years ago I saw the Pacific for the first time. From an overlook ledge, my travel mates were convinced that the brown shapes littering the beach below were scattered pieces of driftwood. But I had a hunch, so I waited patiently while my girlfriends hiked on. After fifteen minutes one of the shapes began to move, and I knew that what was thought to be driftwood was actually seals! My friends came back when I called out to them, and we hiked down for a closer look.
Later, driving on the coast of Oregon, we pulled over to peer down at the plunging view. Exhilarated and excited by the sight of the giant sea stacks, I shouted out, “I’m in remission!” referring to the limited energy I’ve been dealing with for most of my adult life.
At the ocean I’m like a kite buoyed by the wind and cleansed by its wild whipping strokes. But if I’m up too high for too long, I crash down hard. Eventually, I seek soothing green, still and uncluttered space, my own quiet place in the country.
Post notes: The first photo is one of me and my sister Sherry, taken by her husband Nelson in Gloucester, Massachusetts, 2005, first posted HERE. The second one is up the road from where I live here in Virginia. More Sunday Scribblings are HERE.
May 5th, 2007 4:38 pm
Enjoyed your reflections on the ocean. We moved near the ocean (1/2 mile from water) when I was nine. I remember the taste of salt in the air–I tasted it again a few years ago when I returned for the first time in several years (my father was still working then and living out of the country so there was no reason to go home). I do miss the salty taste in my mouth, thanks for the memories. Michele says hi.
May 5th, 2007 6:14 pm
Loved this…I love the ocean so much just like you. I wish I had some pictures I could have posted…yours is lovely.
Virginia looks beautiful as well.
May 5th, 2007 6:32 pm
As I read this I thought it was that long ago! I then went to HERE and the date is 2005. It was the summer you came home and spent over a month. There was a reason for it and I still find that time special. xoox
May 5th, 2007 6:54 pm
Oh! I fixed the date. I still think we look like young girls.
May 5th, 2007 6:58 pm
Great post. I love the imagery of your writing. I’ve never been to the ocean…I can almost taste the salt.
Beautiful pic too!
May 5th, 2007 7:34 pm
This is an amazing tribute to the sea. I love how the sea has been present throughout a lot of your life moments.
May 5th, 2007 8:04 pm
Beautiful. Brings back memories for me of Dorchester Bay, and more recent trips to Florida’s Atlantic coast. I first saw the Pacific in 1979 — but even more than the ocean, I remembered my first look at the Milky Way above the surf.
I’ve finally passed the Thinking Blogger torch forward, and thanks again for the award…
May 5th, 2007 10:35 pm
Hi Colleen. Popped in from Michele’s before I shut the laptop down and pack it away for my trip.
Whenever I want a lesson in detailed, rich use of imagery, I’ll come back to this entry. You crafted it so artfully that it’s impossible to read without creating my own images in my mind’s eye. Thanks!
May 5th, 2007 10:37 pm
Hi Colleen, Here from Micheles tonight, though I’d already read this earlier tonight on my own. You have such beautiful imagery in your writing, I love that picture of the Parkway, it looked like my drives to work the last few days of fog!
May 6th, 2007 12:08 am
I liked tghis nostalgic post of yours. Vivid images and the emotions gets thorough.
May 6th, 2007 1:02 am
This is one hell of a piece of writing. So was the piece you linked to about cfs. I’ll be back to read more.
May 6th, 2007 1:02 am
Beautiful post, Colleen…And lovely pictures, too….My favorite line us..”I’m in remission…”> Great Great feeling, isn’t, my dear?
May 6th, 2007 5:22 am
I remember seeing the Pacific too! That’s a long time ago! Luckily we can see seals from the trainline along the coast from Edinburgh up to the north. If they’re not moving you can mistake them for rocks!
May 6th, 2007 6:56 am
The sea is restorative for us all, I find.
May 6th, 2007 8:21 am
Oceans and winds are bracing but I hear you. Sometimes they are over-intense. Waiting on a hunch for the seals sounds like a good song title.
May 6th, 2007 8:26 am
I can sense the Kali aspect in your ocean too. I loved reading about your “remission” moment…such a powerful and life-affirming turn of inspiration. But that is the thing about the ocean, I guess: it reflects and heightens our states of being like the sunshine that catches on its glistening waves on a summer day or the darkness that seeps from its depths during winter. It is both a mirror and a powerful element for change, but its ultimate unpredictability can be overwhelming and lead us to seek true peace inland. Thought-provoking post, Colleen, and beautifully written.
May 6th, 2007 2:34 pm
Hi – I found your blob via Kellogg Bloggin……. and I have scrolled back and read and read….. I LOVE it here…. you have such a talent with words….
I cant imagine not living near the sea….. I live not 14 minutes by car to the sea and 2 minutes by legs to open countryside…… I really dont think I could ever live anywhere that was not just a spit away from the seaside…….
May 6th, 2007 5:17 pm
Wonderful post–everything from the foghorn-stove to the description of Virginia hills like waves to seeing the Oregon Coast. Lovely!
May 6th, 2007 5:46 pm
The first time I ever heard a foghorn was in Nova Scotia, on a trip with the only love of my life. It seemed that everywhere we went during those last years there was always some lonesome sound, mostly trains sounding their warnings in the night. I saw the ocean for my first time with him and will never forget the haunting sound of the foghorn in the night.
May 6th, 2007 11:29 pm
The pics of the Blue Ridge Mts are absolutely stunning and alluring…very much like the diffeent blues of the ocean. They really do look blue!
I’ve seen many white seals on the Pacific coast, sunning themselves on rocks.
May 7th, 2007 12:08 am
Loved reading your post today. My great great uncle Oswald West was the governor of Oregon in 1914 and responsible for making the beaches (coastline) of Oregon public property. In 2000, Oregonians chose Oswald West as the most important person in Oregon’s history, as the coast of Oregon is the only coastline that belongs to the people. There is a park there named after him. Oregon rocks! I love your blog. Annie Hall
May 7th, 2007 12:34 am
I enjoyed reading that, Colleen. Mr. kenju has the same connection as you to the ocean, and he craves lookin at it, walking beside it, staring at it.
I enjoy it, but I didn’t see the ocean until I was 16, so it isn’t in my blood like it is in yours and his.
May 7th, 2007 9:11 am
I grew up near the Gulf Coast ocean, not as pretty as the Atlantic or Pacific, but still mesmerizing. I have always longed to see/live in the Blue Ridge or Smokey Mountains. My Dad’s side of the family came from the Tennesse/Kentucky/Virgina area…I think our roots call to us.
My massage therapist recently told me that there are four areas; mountains, ocean, waterfall and desert, that affect our physical health. Something to do with “Ions”. Anyway, I physically feel best in the mountains and she feels best near the ocean. Maybe you are an ocean person too?
Susan
May 7th, 2007 9:23 am
The ocean give off more health giving negative ions than any other element. Lightening is the next higherst giver of it. That’s why a lightening storm is engerizing (but don’t get TOO close). I think I am an ocean person, but I also like space and solitude and grow best in a big green space fish bowl. Here’s a link for a quick read on negative ions. http://www.peakpureair.com/negative_ions.htm
May 7th, 2007 9:41 am
The picture with the blue on blue on blue behind the mountains is one of my favorite things about living here…..It always makes me stare though I’ve seen it thousands of times.
Nice post!
May 7th, 2007 9:48 am
Colleen, looks like a very interesting website. I’ll be reading there today. Thanks! My massage therapist has one of those negative ion air filters and says it really has helped her breathing and energy. Do you have one?
Susan
May 7th, 2007 10:05 am
No but maybe I should ask for one for Christmas this year. It would come in handy in the winter when we’re inside a lot with the woodstove. I’m going to write it down.
May 8th, 2007 12:54 am
I have only been to the west coast two or three times and always in southern California… the two coastlines are so very, very different and both beautiful.
May 8th, 2007 9:10 am
This was a beautiful entry. It made me remember the sense of relief I get when I’m approaching the ocean when I go to visit my family in Northern California. There is a stretch of road that we usually go across to get to Highway One that is really twisty and wooded. When you reach the end you look out and there it is the ocean again. And oh I love the sound of foghorns.