The wind was rising more quickly now and long ribbons of white were beginning to streak the water. Wave troughs were deepening rapidly, their sides steepening, their tops blown off and flattened by the wind. Gradually, but perceptibly the slap of the rigging began its lonely whine, climbing steadily to register upon the ear. Pitching madly, grotesquely under a serene blue sky above, caught in the tremendous seas below, I experience the terror of natures fury. Clinging to the wheel, I am surrounded by its roaring voice and impetuous ebb and clutched within its swaying, swelling motion. I battle the elements.

Early morning and the sea shore is alive with activity. Athletic sea gulls scream and jostle on the wind. The comforting coo of morning doves, busy mynahs, quick legged sandpipers, scuttling bowlegged ghost crabs.

Hearing, seeing, smelling the sea I feel the consistency of nature as the swell rises, crests and breaks against a rock. The sea is eternal, the sky eternal and the rocks and shore eternal. The renewal of life is eternal without beginning and end, forever changing. Slowly through the millinnium the water wears away at the shoreline, changing the topography and flora and fauna but nature like the universe is consistent. Forever reassuring it will always be there while we struggle to find ourselves in our consistency. And when we are gone, vanished, forgotten, the sea will continue to roll upon the shore incessently wearing away at the coastline.