Water Baby

Like sap rising in a maple tree, fall fuels my spirit with energy and inspiration. Autumn infused itself into my DNA at birth.

Although I arrived in the last dog days of summer as the sun defiantly blazed its omnipotent heat, cooler weather snuck in snapping like a twig, turning the air crisp overnight.

Southern California did not have what some would call weather, but we had abundant sun, water, and wind. Once the warm Santa Anas blew the last vestige of warmth from our midst in late October, we prepared for autumn to usher in a delightful transition of seasons.

As a child who dreamed of escaping a turbulent home life, I would stand outside our bedroom in a long flannel nightgown, lift my arms, and pretend I could fly away like Peter Pan as the drying leafage shook in the trees and dust devils swirled around me. Worries were left behind and I lived in the land of dreams.

When the equinox arrives, a sumptuous splendor engulfs me. Elation surges like an electrical current. Undefinable energy fills my body, buzzing with vitality before the first leaves turn. It’s a divine assurance that something magical is about to happen.

Every year around the day of my birth, a rich ambiance of renewal saturates my senses. Resonating like a primal call from the wild, it urges me toward some sacred instinctual purpose, imploring me to explore unmapped realms.

Solstice transforms me. The Harvest Moon beckons me to embrace my primitive self, howl like a she-wolf, and run free of the earthly bounds, unrestrained and untamed.  

But deeper inside, all things aquatic sing an enchanting invocation I cannot ignore. As the moon governs the tides my soul rises and ebbs with its gravitation pull.

In another incarnation, I was a sea otter, a seal, a dolphin. Chasing sunlight on the water’s surface filled my days. Easily navigating the shifting currents, I splashed and played in a joyful celebration of life, reveling in the simplicity and cadence of ocean life.  

Sirens intuited my name from archaic texts before written time was evident calling me to sea. Nymphs beckoned me to join their rhythmic dance. I am a native of the waves.

During gestation, I swam in an autumnal soup and its water baptized me as a creature of mystic, immersed in the essence of magic and wonder. My existence is a tapestry woven of ancient forces, a collection of memories, experiences, and emotions of ancestors who traversed

faraway lands and navigated uncharted seaways imprinting me in mysterious and wondrous ways.

Their legacy is my sense of adventure and undying curiosity. Echoes of distant voices murmur encouragement, reminding me of my resilience. Honoring them is my guiding light, inspiring a journey of self-discovery and transformation.

Water is my grounding force. Swimming became a solemn ritual, a way to try and cleanse myself of the oppressive burdens of life at home. Each deep breath was a communion with ethereal forces, each stroke a meditation in surrender. The hectic world would slip away, as chaos dissipated like fine mist in the early morning sunshine. Transported beyond defined boundaries I felt liberated, renewed, and untroubled.

In the water, I am a mermaid, fluid and free. My hair floats like seaweed, my body is weightless, graceful, and boundless. The air feels lighter. Pendulous, fully at peace, languishing beneath far-flung galaxies shining down from the heavens, I am reminded of the infinite possibilities that stretch beyond the borders of constricted reality.

My fifteenth summer was a profound reminder of the overwhelming power of the master of tidal forces. Trapped in a vicious undertow at the beach, I  was utterly helpless.

Turbulence convulsed in a violent spiral parallel to the shore, rapidly shooting me sideways through the roiling surf toward the pier. I struggled to bounce off the churning sand, fight to the top, grab a quick gulp of air, squeeze my eyes shut, and roll into a tight ball again. Whoosh!

Being engulfed in a continuously spinning vortex with no hope of escape was surreal. As if my blessed source of consolation had turned against me, the sea that had always provided comfort now felt savage. For the first time in my life, I surrendered to the sovereign power of the unknown. Fighting against the immense tidal energy was futile. Disoriented and exhausted, I gave up.

Watching the massive concrete-wrapped steel columns speeding toward me through weary, salt-stung eyes one last time, a gently sighed prayer from Amphitrite, the mother of dolphins and seals, lovingly caressed me. Accept your destiny. A calming sense of relief overtook me, and I willingly accepted the immutable truth. Death was inevitable.

Fate is resourceful. Moments before the towering pillars crushed me, Mom called for help from the beach. A tall, muscular friend ran into the surf and caught me by the scruff of my neck, dragging me to safety. Like a fish thrown to shore, I gasped for breath.

It was many years before I trusted my beloved again. But Poseidon’s allure was too strong to resist. For thirty years, I sailed, free-dived for abalone in the frigid waters of northern California, and snorkeled along the marvelous golden thread of coastline from Mexico to Oregon.

After moving to the arid, hostile Arizona desert to care for Mom, people chuckle when I tell them I am a fish, not a lizard. This is not my natural habitat.

Ferocious heat is a brutal reminder that life without water is not just a struggle for survival but lacks the vibrancy to feed my inner being. Drab, muted-toned landscapes are devoid of energy and a coarse harshness bleaches my senses raw like an abandoned skull left to bake under a relentless sun.

Some friends here flourish, blossoming in the sweltering warmth and remote isolation. It is a constant challenge for me to thrive where stark desolation and unrefined beauty coexist. This new journey is about adaptation, determination, and inner strength.

Even though we live along the mighty Colorado River, the surroundings are hostile, inhospitable, and unforgiving. I crave the rhythm of the sea, pounding surf, the screech of seagulls, and the smell of salt in the wind.

My varied shell collection links me to the language of water. Placing a whorl-shaped, pink-lipped conch to my ear, I can hear the tranquil whisper of the waves and revel in the myriad memories of sunlit shores and endless horizons. Those moments transport me to a magical fertile space of imagination, wild with inspiration.

Opening to a boundless expanse of possibilities and hidden treasures, the whimsical spirit of my cherished life as a sea creature ignites in me again. Swimming beside pearlescent-skinned dolphins nourishes me. Witnessing the sovereign ceremony of whales breaching is a balm for my soul. Their colossal forms gracefully soaring into the air sending sprays of shimmering saltwater and glistening foam twinkling in the sun is mesmerizing.

Water’s wildness nurtures me. My spirit is replenished. Peace fills my heart. The ocean’s majestic energy courses in my veins reminding me of the titanic transformative powers I possess.

Open and vulnerable, I plunge into this new life embracing its uncertainties with courage and joy.