Friday, November 21, 2008 at 12:54am

“Do you wanna hear something funny?”
“Yeah, definitely…”
“You’ve got a tiny ocean in your ear.”

Brilliant. I love the way non-native English speakers chose to phrase things. It’s so goddamn charming. And it illuminates things in this way that’s missing with the mother tongue. That was Sina, my dear German friend referring to the pool of tears that had collected in my ears as I lay on the beach, bawling about all the bullshit. Her efforts to console me got me thinking about the ocean. I had a real shit day and the first place I wanted to go was the sea. 
Before I decided to jump ship in the Tdot I was dreaming a lot about the ocean. A few stand out more than others. One where I was looking out the window of a highrise and below I could see I was surrounded by a moat. Suddenly, as dreams always go, I was swimming in the water, away from the polar bears and underneath the turtles. Another I was swimming across the ocean with my family, my sister and I were lagging behind, doggie paddling, with our heads barely bobbing above the water. Not too far off the way I feel right about now.
The most vivid and eerie dream had me walking with my father and brother, looking down the edge of a cliff at the surf crashing up against the rocks. The first day I arrived in Byron with my father and brother and I trekked up the cliff to the lighthouse, I stopped dead in my tracks when I peered out over the edge to see the exact same image playing out in real life. This was my dream. Exactly my dream. No possible way I could’ve ever put all of these elements together, yet here it is – everything as it should be – right next to the ocean. 
I found myself back at the beach at the end of the day, sitting in my friends van, looking out towards the water, discussing forgiveness. As our conversation rolled on, the clouds rolled in. This time instead of feeling like I was reliving a dream, it felt like I was witnessing a scene that should of been a dream; it was all too surreal. There was what looked to be a pirate ship way out in the waves, Julian Rocks sitting off the center, the lighthouse churning out its beam, huge gangly storm clouds draping over the sky and moving overhead at an alarming speed. The forked lightning was zig zagging every which way, connecting with the water like it was its job.
“You’d better go now if you want to get a swim in before the hail storm hits…it’s coming…” two surfer dudes warned us as they collected their gear and hopped in their van. Just a quick dip to make it all right. Dom zoomed into the water, meanwhile I abstained because a) I don’t think lightning and water mix and b) I just had to try and absorb the friggin scenery. “Really? This is really happening? Ok. Sure thing.” The rush back in the rain still felt very accomplished. Stormy weather but we survived. Just being on the beach and giving it all to the universe felt very fitting after our conversation about attempting to let go.
I reckon we cross a million little oceans every day, just like the one made of tears Sina sussed in my ear, and the ones from my dreams. Sometimes you gotta contend with huge obstacles, and sometimes you can just kind of keep your head above water, but you gotta do it. And I suppose the journey is a tad easier the less shit you’re dragging along. 
Yeah, lots of things aren’t perfect. Shoulda, coulda, woulda on so many levels, but there comes a time when you have to even just energetically forgive the misgivings in order to get to the other side. I talk/think about this a lot lately probably because I have a sneaking suspicion that each time I get rid of some baggage, I look again and I’ve still got heaps to go. I don’t think it’s that unique, really.
Some days it’s easier to brave the storm than others, but sitting and having a good cry on the sand in the midst of it all is a helluva lot better than not even making it to the sea at all.