It is an interesting biological fact that all of us have, in our veins the exact same percentage of salt in our blood that exists in the ocean, and, therefore, we have salt in our blood, in our sweat, in our tears. We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea – whether it is to sail or to watch it – we are going back from whence we came.

~JFK speech delivered for America’s Cup crews in 1962

What is so compelling about the ocean that draws us to it? I think that it is both alluring and frightening at the same time. It can hold us in her buoyant embrace but just as easily drown us in her depths. My first experience of the ocean was in Fort Lauderdale, Florida when I was a little girl in the early sixties. One-story stucco buildings lined the main boulevard boarding white sand beaches where gentle waves ebbed and flowed across the shore. The sand and salt clung to my skin, my lips and inside my ears after building sandcastles with my bother and sister while digging our hands deep into the moist, cool sludge, or racing into the frothy waves to frolic and play, or combing the beach in search of the perfect conk shell.

It wasn’t until I was older and vacationing in Hawaii that I experienced a rougher, wilder side of the sea. While body surfing the waves I got caught in an undertow.   With arms and legs flailing, I began to panic as I tossed and tumbled under water, unable to surface. It was then I became acutely aware that the ocean was not to be trifled with and demanded my respect. As quickly as I had become entangled in the wave, I was abruptly slammed into the gritty bottom of the shore. Staggering to my feet with sand embedded into every crevice of my body and swimsuit, I made my way to the safety of my brightly colored terrycloth beach towel laying peacefully on shore.

Perhaps its this untamable quality of the sea and the constant change of temperament that calls to the restless and complex nature within myself. Unlike the earth that resonates with my need to feel grounded and secure, the ocean resonates with my need for movement and change and something a bit wild. The following blogs are reflections from my travels on a boat along the northwest coast of America and the southern coast of British Columbia, Canada not far from the entrance to the Inside Passage to Alaska. It is my water pilgrimage so to speak, the counter part to my Camino walk on the land. Like the Camino, there are many lessons the ocean has taught me or quietly reminded me that I already know.

Question: Is your home responsive to the various moods and temperaments of those who live there?