Back To The Ocean

Aside from the fact that you were raised in a landlocked country—and the fact that the only body of water you could easily access was Thunersee, a 53-minute train ride away from Bern—you had been deeply connected with water and the ocean since the ripe young age of four. One time, your family took you on a vacation to Valencia, Spain, and out of the ten vacation days you were there, you spent nine whole days swimming in the ocean or building sand castles. On the last morning, you were busy throwing up the rancid food you had eaten for dinner the night before, so your mother had banned you from going to the beach that day and put you on bed rest instead.

Now you are twenty-three, and although this happened fourteen years ago, you still conclude that Switzerland is a terrible country to be located in and instead want to explore the ocean. You decide to go down to Perth, Australia, to study marine biology. Off the West Coast, the miniscule but highly venomous blue-ringed octopus dwells around the shallow parts of Quinns Beach, even more so out past Rottnest Island where your team of scientists conduct your research. Even so, you are relentless in your job, skillfully avoiding the creatures as well as the numerous species of deadly sharks that circle your boat.

As you lower your body into the deep blue ocean, savouring the sweet caress of the water against your skin, you are enveloped by the cooling sensation of millions of bubbles sticking to your wetsuit and briefly clouding your vision in an exhilarating dance. You give yourself a second to breathe, to bask in the filtered light that weaves golden webs of underwater silk.

When you break the surface of the water, everything disappears: all your problems, all your worries and all the previous mistakes that still haunt you. Once your thoughts have finally been silenced, the sole thing that reaches your ears is the quiet splash that your body makes as you swiftly re-enter the water. After the echoes of the splash fade away, and your goggles clear up, your eyes scan the ocean—the deep sapphire biome that stretches far beyond your reach. The deeper you move within the water, the further within your soul you can explore. Your eyes stay dry, protected by the goggles provided by your research faculty that shield them from the ruthlessly salty water. You close your eyes to drink the haze of joy in, and, as you open them once more to again witness the beauty you first fell in love with as a child, you are reminded anew of the ocean’s glory.

Your fingertips start to prune, turning white and wrinkled, allowing you to grip onto rocks and coral reefs, to feel the myriad of textures tickle your palms in a familiar greeting. The deeper you go, the further the ‘other’ world gets from you, the closer the world you feel most connected to gets to you, and the more your ears start to ache. Yet the discomfort of the shifting pressure is worth the beauty of the overall journey. The blood in your body pulses more slowly, less angrily, and you feel your body unravel, unwind from your suddenly unimportant issues. You forgot to pay the rent this month, but oh, who cares—you are back to where you belong, to where your body feels most at home. You are back to the ocean.

Writer – Maria Secara
Editor – Romi Feng
Artist – Joyce Xu

–April 2025–