Past|Present|Future
Even after all these years, I recall the happiness of a family we did not know venturing out to get their feet wet in the gentle waves of the Pacific Ocean, the matriarch of the family bending down to splash the cold water onto her face as her family stared into the gauzy horizon, mesmerized with the vastness of the sea. It seemed to me that this was their first time to see the Pacific Ocean, maybe their first time to see any ocean, and that this experience was something they had longed to see for as far back as they could remember, and finally, here they all were. The child on their father’s shoulders saw the exuberance of his grandparents taking in the ocean and had to know that this was special, that the ocean offered them joy and hope.
What is it that makes an ocean draw us near before we have ever seen or heard it with our own eyes and ears?
I was 25 years old before I saw an ocean. I had no idea just how small I would feel standing before it until its vastness surrounded me. And it is not just the view that created this feeling of smallness; the sound of constantly moving water picking up and dropping sand and rocks, waves crashing and lapping, lulled my mind into a feeling of separation from everything else around me as I stared at the line where the sky meets the water. I felt like I was of both the land and sea as I stood there, and that the ocean was waiting for me as much as I had been waiting for it.
It is an unwritten rule that you must get your feet wet when you visit the ocean, no matter the temperature of the air or water. The ocean will welcome your presence, and for at least a moment, you will be part of more than one world. You must feel the sand squeeze between your toes, the water chill your feet as you watch it push and pull while you try to stand still. Let the energy of each wave that started who knows when or where pulse toward you.
Life is short, but the ocean is forever. And that may be what draws us to its shores. To stand before it is to see time. Our ancestors watched the waves lap at their feet, and our predecessors will do the same. The ocean connects us to the past and future through the sense of awe and wonder it inspires. For many of us, the oceans dispersed our ancestors across the globe. These dispersions were sometimes an act of faith that what was on the other side of the ocean was worth traveling to, but were also far too often the result of slavery. The vast oceans carried our ancestors to faraway places, and so when we stare into the horizon now we may imagine their arduous journey into the vast emptiness and wonder how they survived such a trip. The ocean connects us to them.
I look at the photo of the family seeing the Pacific Ocean for the first time, and my eyes go to the grandfather standing to the left, just a few feet in front of his wife, son, and grandchild. He has rolled his pant legs up to just below his knees, and he is letting the water rush around him as he stands relaxed with his hands in his pockets. He can hear his wife’s joy behind him while he watched the waves roll in. There is something hopeful in his stance. At that moment, his life is whole. The past, present, and future are all colliding at his feet, and he has joy and hope.
