To say that I love the ocean may be an understatement, but it will do. I never feel as liberated ( in all manners) as when I stand at/on/in the ocean. It’s as if the ocean’s counterpart lives within me, aching, with a force that might cause it to burst out of my skin, to return to its love: deep calling out to deep. Two enigmatic creations longing for their Creator, leaving me, the subsequent bystander, to deal with the paradoxical feelings of power/inferiority, eternity/finality, and familiarity/ignorance. In those moments, I feel as close to how I imagine Moses did when standing on the cleft waiting for God to show His face: small, but known, loved, and encountered.
So, while in Corpus last weekend, we stumbled upon a wind and water competition (wind and kite surfing). Watching these surfers float through the air and graciously contort/thrust their bodies on the water, as if extensions of it, I confess, made my sand-sunken self a little jealous. I can’t surf. And seeing that we don’t have an ocean in central Texas, I imagine I never will. But, thanks to the subjuntive, I can build a whole imaginative world in a statement like this: if I did live near a beach, I would definitely be a surfer. Liam must have glimpsed a little of this imaginative world too, for Mother’s Day, he drew the picture above –mom windsurfing.
Comments
Liam really pays attention to the details.
And, judging by the grin, she was really enjoying it.