When in open water, you are surrounded by the immensity of the sea.
After you’ve watched movies such as Jaws or Pirates of The Caribbeans, you are expecting Great whites and Krakens.
But, in that very moment, your eyes only get lost in infinites of flat waters. If it wasn’t for the swirls and the tides, it would have been motionless.
And that is equally frightening.
We know very little of the ocean, yet, we choose to sail on its surface, floating on the false hope that nothing could harm us.
God, how cocky we are ! For all we know, a storm could have the best of us. That is, without considering the sea.
What brings chills to my bones is not the soft breeze, not the strong winds and not even the gigantic creatures that might be hovering in deep waters.
What frightens me the most is the void. We are just a small point, floating from an horizon to another, from a shore to another, with infinites of emptiness, above and below.
But, when the sky looks safe, almost warm to the eyes, the sea is equally mystical. It is too calm to be true.
The more you look at it, the more you realise how small you are, and how vast your surrounding is.
If you ever fall or jump into this waters, it's not the water that will scare you, not the cold that will threaten you, but you'll be livid because of how deep beneath you is.
I'm not even talking about sea creatures, though we know very little of what softly swims down there. I'm highlighting the fact that we will be exactly like an ant, swimming in a gallon of water, with horizons scarily empty.
I'm not afraid of the sea. I'm fascinated. It forces respect, because it chooses to make the sailing peaceful, normal, while it could easily make of it your last memory.
I'm fascinated, because I'm overwhelmed by the azur all around me. It speaks with a voice, melodious, but unintelligible to my ears. I close my eyes and listen, exactly how you would listen to an opera in latin. Your heart feels the meaning when the words fail to vehicle it.
The waves vehicle the meaning, but my heart knows it's a language I'm yet to know. So the sea keeps on singing, and I keep on listening, getting a sentence or two.
But I'm left with more questions than I started with, for there is way more than what meets the eye.
As I gaze at the horizon, I could discern a boat. It must be immense, but from here, it looks smaller than a grain of sesame. Maybe it's because that's exactly what it is. A grain of sesame, floating on immense waters.
The water is coated in a dark blue, too dark to see what's a few meters beneath it. And that's frightening too.
For all we know, we could be accompanied by something way bigger than this boat, not willing to intervene, but making sure that we do not break the beauty of the sea.
Our lifeline is a very thin line here. A thin linen, that links a shore to another, but that seems constantly on the verge of breaking.
I'm not frightened of the sea because of the death she might bring, I'm frightened because of all the life she hides under her veil. It is not ominous, just intimidating.
I could talk forever about the sea, because she was there, a million lifetimes before, and she will remain a million more. Yet, she doesn't age. She is a beautiful lady, with mysterious traits and a blue dress. She was once left with the burden of hiding some secrets of this world, and it's fair to say that she still does it pretty well.
It is no wonder how her charm has tied more than one to her tides. She dances in rythm, to a mystical melody, without skipping any beat. And the whole world dances back in unison, dependent of her swirlings.
And that, it is frightening too.