May 12, 2016

Mother Ocean, Tumble me Home.

Hamed Saber/Flickr

Four months ago I moved to Costa Rica with plenty of expectations.

Falling in love with the ocean was not one of them—I felt like we were already in love.

And we were—but over the last four months, it became more real—like skin that has been loved tan and wrinkled by the sun, scratched up by salt and sand. Our bond became old and leathered, the kind that is hard-earned with time.

Floating and playing in the warm waves of the Pacific, I allowed my body to be tumbled, my head to be pounded. I let the waves take me anywhere, without resisting their drastic undulations. I learned how to surf, which revealed a new range of emotions: exhaustion as I paddled out, connection as I sat and waited, joy from catching a wave and riding it in and fear of the ones that caught me unexpectedly.

From being smashed and tumbled, gasping for air, hallucinating shark fins around me and floating in ecstasy—I fell more deeply in love than ever before. I gave in to fully experiencing the ocean’s power, by allowing the waves to move my body. As a result, I felt love that only evolves from experiencing the multi-dimensional nature of a great force. The waves were dynamic and strong, erratic yet fluid. I cried into them and they held me. I screamed into them and they stayed close. I could see myself reflected in their waters.

It seems that this all-encompassing love has coincided with a deeper love for myself as a dynamic force, with a greater willingness to see and feel the range of who I am. I will never leave the ocean, no matter what she causes me to feel. I will never leave myself, no matter what I feel.


journey back to your mother
salty drops of water
falling home
sliding down
this wrinkled face
golden from tilting
toward the sun
there you go
washed away, far away
before i could grab you
hug you to my chest
and rock side to side
a shadow watching
just beyond
the boundary
of my flesh
you were not meant to stay long

gliding toward
your birthplace
through my tears
swimming home
to mother ocean
she is open
of course you can cry
into her
you go
as she calls to you
opening her chest like a cloak
as the sea reveals a heart
of waves rolling
slowly to shore
melting you
into the folds of water
realizing how time has slowed
allowing for this moment
to be truly felt
she tumbles you
turning you
over and over
feet over head
over hands
to see where you are
through clouds of sand
spreading her wings wide
glancing through my mind
translucent green
whitewater waves
sloshing toward me
closer, closer
like a train about to collide

I release my body
sliding under
to stillness
somehow knowing
the exact moment
when I need
to drop my knees
hold my breath
let go of the ground
a long pause
under the sun

turning, turning
how comforting
to be held by something
broader than the eyes
to be tossed around
limp and lolling
by blue-green hands
without resistance
freedom to be
earthly wounds washed clean


Author: Samantha Rose

Editor: Yoli Ramazzina

Photo: Flickr/Hamed Saber

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