Hello.

Nice of you to pop by.

Today, I'm here to talk about the ocean/sea/huge body of water that is the blue on our planet when Yuri Gagarin was looking out of his space shuttle.

William Hazlitt once said:

'I hate to be near the sea, and to hear it roaring and raging like a wild beast in its den. It puts me in mind of the everlasting efforts of the human mind, struggling to be free, and ending just where it began.'

I like the sea.

'A raging tempest', I believe someone once described it. But everyone sees the ocean in a different way, because, I believe, the ocean is so different.


That's what I like about the sea - its flexibility. At times it flares it mercurial temper, halfway across the globe it sinks into a wise, sage-like behaviour. Yet in between it can suspend between the two extremes and white-capped waves bob almost gently, frolicking among its friends.

When you're out at sea, after days and days of voyage, the oncoming land is a breath of relief, a sturdy, reliable safe haven. You loathe the sea and would kill to step on something that does not bob. You feel stuck on the boat, trapped within the fibreglass walls of the ship, because you have no where to run to; no means of escape.

When you stand on the beach and gaze out at the vast ocean, you feel so small, negligible, like the weight of an electron. But at the same time, you sense freedom. Somehow next to the majestic ocean your size shrinks, but your soul expands and soars to roar along with the waves that pound against the shore.

You know what I love best about the ocean? It's enormity and superiority. You stand, like an ant by an olympic pool, like a grain of rice in a desert, by the ocean, green-blue waves lapping against your ankles. A breath of wind hurtles towards you, leaving in its wake spirals of sand that flop lifelessly back on the shore. You spread your arms out and close your eyes, feeling the pounding awe of the ocean shrill through your body. You don't bother to open your eyes, knowing that your wind-tousled bangs would just tickle your eyes mercilessly. The screech and the low drumbeat that the ocean brings bang in your ears, and you feel, even for a little moment, that your soul is dancing in the wind, bouncing on the waves crest, diving down into the deeps of the ocean to burst up again in a shower of droplets.

It's a nice feeling.

If you're lucky and the sea is not being thrashed by his wife, the wind, it is calm, surreal. A gentle breeze skims lightly across the waves, but barely disturbs their slumber. You can see the sheen as the sun glances off the reflective, mirror-like waves. You stand, toes wiggling in the soft sand warmed by the sun's rays, and smell the salty tang in the air that sticks to you skin and wiggles deep into your hair. The waves lap gently onto the shore, like a dog absentmindedly drinks water from a puddle. There's a different feeling in the air now - the power of the sea has gone. A smooth, gentle feeling of peace enters your soul. While the ocean in its rage flies you close to the sun like Daedalus and Icarus; in its meek mood the sea steadies you on the ground, so your soul remains peacefully frolicking in the sand.

The ocean reminds me of a meek, gentle, sweet little figure: a Brownie selling cookies. At times, an obnoxious, big-bellied, pompous man: Zeus with his thunderbolt in hand. The ocean has no humility.


For all its beauty and majesty, the ocean scares me. It's short temper flares and bursts onto the land like no other power in the world. But the thing that quakes me the most, is the very thing that I love about the sea. It is so vast, that when you float on your back on the waves, you fear. You fear that a freak wave would stream into your mouth and nostrils and drag you down into the deepest trenches of the ocean. You look around and you see nothing but sea. You see nothing but a dark abyss that paralyses you to stay right where you are, instead of swimming back to safety, and where you can hear your death call out to you.

There is absolutely nothing that can compare to the ocean; the sea.

Countdown to World Cup: 4 Days 2 Hours 59 Min 45 Sec