“Fear has its use but cowardice has none.” ~Gandhi
On Monday, my boyfriend and I took a ferry to Catalina Island, where we planned to spend the night.
I knew the island would be quaint and charming, which was a big part of its appeal, but I was mostly looking forward to breathing in the salty ocean air.
From vacations enjoyed with beachside lounging, to summer days spent running along the shore, some of my favorite memories involve the hypnotic lilt of crashing waves.
We hightailed it to the upper deck as soon as we dropped our bags, allowing ourselves the best possible view of any jumping dolphins we might encounter.
It wasn’t long before we picked up some speed, but this didn’t deter me from sticking my face into the wind.
I imagined that was what dogs feel like when they poke their heads outside car windows—completely enveloped by the cool, crisp breeze; wrapped in it and yet so free.
Thirty minutes and ten dolphin sightings in, though still windblown, I felt my cheeks go warm and flush as I giggled, “I love the ocean!”
It was the kind of pure joy that comes being fully present, clearheaded, and immersed in nature—magnified because I was sharing it with someone I love.
Three hours later, after we’d checked into our hotel and eaten lunch, I thought, “I hate the ocean.”
We’d decided to go snorkeling, something my boyfriend loves, and, theoretically, I thought I’d enjoy.
Nemo-like fish, machine-free exercise, and exploration are all things I appreciate. And we’d done it together once before in San Diego, a few months after we’d first started dating.
But back then we’d stayed in shallow water, much like I do when I swim at beach. By “swim” I mean wade out to my waist, all the while fearing death by shark. (more…)
