The sound of water pounding upon the shore is enough to quench my soul and all at once ignite something new. A lull. The polished surface of the ocean seems almost like a porridge skin, hot and wet beneath the surface but tightly held together, somehow.
As the sun stirs on the horizon the glistening plain takes on a new character. A rich, decadent blue penetrated by the elongation of the sun's rays, bursts into life, commanding a resurgence of the power.
Heart beat
I once heard and now see. The white sand between my toes feels warmer than it did an hour ago. I surge forward, clearing the balustrade with the help of my right hand, unzipping my grey hoodie with thick stitch, intentional holes and flinging it on the sand.
That disappearance of sound as my ears are submerged. The churning of the water could not have been understood from the precipice, that exchange of land for water every time a wave rolls in; a partnership, a mutual understanding. Power on display, splendour, introducing ocean to shore, body to body, and they dance beneath the surface.
An undercurrent assures me that there's a direction. To swim against it would be meaningless. There is a certain excitement in turning over and surrendering to the ocean, adrift, adept. Cliffs jut just above, pointing the way home. The gentle pull of the ocean whispers its sweet purpose, the sun climbing higher in the sky fondles my face; its warm embrace lets me know I'm won. I lay there, peaceful, focused, secure.
Awake
Open my eyes… The sky is grey with the afterthought of hydrating. How long have I been asleep I wonder, adrift I wonder. The roll over; the return to control, to endurance. I peer ahead, the cliffs far off, pointing now at me.
But I'm not ready to go home yet. The resistance begins. Gentle one-two-three-breathe as I make my way back; my strength… my ability. Closer yet further, an excitement about struggling.
The water feels like cold steel against my body, jelly-like as I propel myself forward last touch against my palms, leaning on water, dependent on it and yet against it. As I surge forward the current rips through my head and escapes through my toes. There is pain in continuing, invigoration in moving.
Cliffs reflecting in the ocean and I contemplate… The smell has changed; its hue is different. To turn back would be effortless but it's harder to do. A fight begins in my mind and it's strange as I'm so close to the shore but the closer I get the more my mind defies me. Turn. Surrender once more. Each wave seems to push me forward, the layer is gone and what was once beneath has broken through to the surface. The time for decision.
Right on time... Blackness… Muffled beauty of light… The struggle… Sand. As my toes jostle in the sandy floor an anxiety comes over me. The fear of a wrong decision, of an opportunity missed.
Light beams down all around, rays jutting out of the parched grey sky, bellowing for attention. The Gallipoli shaped droplets forming on the surface of the water with the pelting of rain, heavy and sulphuric. As a militant wave gathers form, its wall impressively toned, I dive beneath it. Pressure pushes downwards, but streamlined I'm torpedoed upwards. I reach forward, giving the current a head start.
There's a peace in surrendering.
And as the Psalmist whispers into the uttermost - "Have you not delivered my feet from falling" (56 verse 13).
David Luschwitz is a Secondary English Teacher in Southern Sydney. He has studied in England and France as well as travelling abroad and is currently undertaking further study at Alphacrucis College. He enjoys good food and likes to swim at the beach.
David Luschwitz previous articles may be viewed www.pressserviceinternational.org/david-luschwitz.html