When I was a little girl, I dove into the vast boundless ocean and swam in her wide waters feeling the sudden weightlessness of all my worries. The deep stillness soothed, as water pressed against ears and flesh in an embrace so wide, nothing was excluded. I called her "mama", even then, like a fish at home. I didn't have to think to swim, to glide in and out of waves. I didn't have to be anything other than what I was in that perfect moment. I didn't have to speak or pretend, to smile or look away. The ocean didn't have to be other than it was to be safe. I was aware of shark and stingray, the tug of tide and pull of waves, of reef and jelly fish. It just needed to be and in it's buoyant being I could simply be too.