The other day I was on a plane. We were flying along the coast of California (may I just say, what a lovely place to be- California, not the plane, naturally). And when you're high above the ocean you get this really clear sense of the scope of its reach. It's not like flying over a city, when the cars and buildings get smaller and it puts into perspective the impermanence of everything we build. No. Getting a good look at the sea from far away only makes it more grand and mysterious. I wonder what it's like, to have that much room, and to hold so many things, and to have so many different faces, like the treacherous waves and the cool exotic beaches; the surf and the foamy edges of the eastern shore; the quiet narrow bays of the Pacific North West, the wildness at which it throws itself at the cliffs of Dover. I wonder what it's like, to be the very vessel that baptizes us, feeds us, and can seal our fate. The terror and the majesty. The power and the peace.