A Phosphorus Skinny-Dip

Have you ever felt the ocean? I mean, truly felt it. This might seem like a strange question, but for many people out there in this exquisite world, experiencing the sensation of saltwater lapping at their toes is but a far off fantasy. Although vast, the sea doesn’t reach all corners of life. It’s impossible to imagine never having run my hands through the first layer of the Pacific while skimming along in a sailboat, plunging into the teal currents of the Caribbean, or breathing in the salt-infused breeze over the Atlantic. To feel the ocean is to experience an alternate universe that thrives in both the shallows and the shadows; the ones we see and the ones we probably never will.
            I’ve been drawn to it for as long as I can remember. I suppose it’s always been a part of who I am. In another life it’s perfectly conceivable that I was a mermaid—if they existed, that is. (But perhaps they do.) I feel most at ease when I’m enveloped by the ocean’s velvety swirls. It doesn’t bother me to open my eyes underwater, either. In fact, I prefer it. Sometimes I swim as far down as I can with a single breath, flip onto my back, and float the rest of the way to the surface with wide eyes, witnessing the sunlight streaming through the glassy top layer, igniting dusty drifts of algae in a golden spotlight. It makes me feel alive, connected, and wonderfully curious.
            In the summer, my favourite hour of the day is when high tide swallows the beach whole. Especially when it arrives, completing its calm crawl, as the sun begins to set, which, in my opinion, is the ideal time to bathe. As the toasted marshmallow sand (not unlike the ones we roast at a beachside bonfire in the evenings) disappears beneath the swell, it subtly warms the water, making it easier to fully submerge. Some may prefer to sprint into the deepness while others enjoy the steady numb of a slow wade. Regardless, once you’re in, it’s nothing less than sublime.
            When the moon dares to dim its brilliant radiance, the ocean comes alive. Have you ever completely stripped down and stepped in? I’m talking every piece of clothing; a risqué skinny-dip. There isn’t anything like it. Envision being caressed by saltwater kisses across every inch of your most natural self as currents as smooth as a butterfly’s wings flutter past. Or being swaddled in the creamiest silk you’ve ever touched, as an intense chill persistently nibbles its way along your nakedness. Vulnerability doesn’t seem so intimidating when it’s accompanied by the energy of the ocean. The cool waters revivify a sense of adventure in your soul that you may have assumed had all but vanished. It hasn’t.
            To add to its enchantment after dark: bioluminescence. The word itself is hypnotic. Wouldn’t you agree? However, it does little to describe the actual occurrence that it represents to those who don’t already know. The most fascinating time to be immersed is when it’s present. In the underwater world of blackness, sunken constellations glitter before, above, and all around you. A fish darting over to the side leaves behind a trail of ghostly glitter. A crab crawling on the sandy floor sparkles with every celestial step. Seaweed glows, starfish shimmer, and sand dollars shine. The twinkle of biodiverse marine life is enough to turn any magic doubter into a full-fledged worshipper. Amen.
            In my family, we call this a phosphorus swim. Come midnight each heat-soaked day, I’ve looked forward to these the most. After a round of cards and a few rum-based drinks or glasses of white wine—from a box, no doubt—we make our way down the rickety wooden pathway to check for its presence. If it’s there, so are we. With the air and the water temperatures as similar as they’ll be all night, there’s no hesitation to take the enigmatic depths in stride until the molasses waves wash their way up to your hips, waist, shoulders, and eventually, the crown of your head.
            Afterwards, milky stars punctuate the grease-black sky, helping to guide the way across the damp sand, once again along the rickety wooden pathway, back to warmth, where a kettle has boiled for hot cocoa, and a steaming hot shower awaits to soothe your inevitable gooseflesh.
            So, now imagining what I’ve described, I’ll ask you again: have you ever truly felt the ocean?

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