Harvey Gamage

The literal ocean currently surrounding our existence is pure and powerful. Every moment is hewn with unbearable beauty, unknown wonders, and a certain risk that we embrace. The spontaneousness within this natural medium is a comfortable challenge that we willingly merge with. The hydraulic and ultraviolet frequencies find us with all haste―landing with a rhythm of carnival drums and remind us that this is the music of life and we must compose a score with the notes that are presented.

As we depart from Fernandina, Florida we are in motion―a motion that possesses a rhythm only nature can set. The waves and the wind lift, push, and sway us along our headings towards the future. The seconds, minutes, and hours are visible with every ripple in the water that pass by as quickly as they arise. Time here is compressed: a day can embody the happenings of a month in the world that we were so inured to until our birth into this seafaring existence. However, there is a paradox in this relationship with time that seems exceedingly rich yet simultaneous rapid as if we have barely begun to know this place.

On our second night to sea on our elongated passage to the Domincan Republic and we watch the results of a magnificent planetary rotation. We unsuccessfully attempt to capture the motion of cosmic filters and illuminators with our sophisticated light boxes and arguably more aptly with our minds. The earth's watchful mother departs. A splashing melody of erupting palates―complex and unpredictable―gently blazing and extinguished with a promise of return that can only be known when witnessed.

Another temporal segment has passed and we have become aged with waves of air and light. We do not acknowledge or perceive this senescence with much concern or evidence, yet we are tacitly aware and taunted by it. Our wisdom of time increases with every passing of it and our associations of the phenomena are further defined by civilized artifacts found in our regiment that has become our comfort in this unpredictable venture of life.

Regardless of what time has passed, we are reluctant to succumb to a static acceptance of what it represents or the frequently purposed importance. Time is only captured by the bindings we attempt to secure it with, yet remains unwaveringly resistant to impediment. In the purest moments of life, time exists only by measure of mortality and the encounters within that limited period.

And although our relationship with time continues to behold novelty, we know that we are awarded with this experience. We are entangled in the fabric of time and life. As we sail through this ocean―through this experience of life―we collect the souvenirs of the universe we are creating. We embrace these moments that defy adequate descriptions with all that we are able to―compressing them into a dense remembrance―that later inspections will reveal the true richness of this time in our lives.

Marine Science Instructor, Jason Childers