Ocean Sound

alaskarue — Wed, 27 May 2015 00:28:31 GMT

Travel the world, people say. But remember that 71% of it is actually beneath the surface.

On Koh Tao, an island shaped like a turtle, it is easy to chase the horizon. The boat takes on wings, a gull dipping and soaring over the ocean. I look out over the long tail of choppy waves in our wake, rocking to the boat’s hurried anthem. The sun giggles with the wind as it sprinkles the surface of the water with diamonds, cloaking the darkness of the world beneath it. Why sink below when you can have the world in brightness, the sun asks. But I've been within the ocean's depths many times and the call of the ocean is real.

The anchor drops and it’s the boat’s turn to be cradled and buffeted by the waves. Such is the ocean's signature smirk, that it can be as loving as it can be violent. That doesn't stop us from diving in though. The deck is a blur of movement and sound as other scuba divers jostle to don their gear. I slide my arms through the BCD and hoist the tank onto my back. Is this how the tired turtle feels? I slide on the mask. Slip on the fins. Step off the boat’s edge, and-

The ocean rushes up to feel my face, and curves to catch my fall. Blue. This is the feeling of falling into blue, into endless, eternal shades of blue. Gazing out into the space seemingly miles away where blue fades to black, where a million scary, angry things could be lurking, I feel a strange kind of peace standing on the precipice of fear. The regulator makes my breathing echo loudly in my ears, filling the ocean sound with the stampede of buffalos.

The wreck rests thirty metres below breeze and light. It appears suddenly, lurching out from the gloom. My breath hitches in my throat. I am gliding above the wreck, staring into the mouth of a giant! Excitement makes me sing. The long corridor is an eerie obstacle course of dangling wires and debris, like hands and fingers begging something of me, but suspended magically in the water, I feel only the wonder, exempt from fear. Each doorway is a glimpse at spirals of fish, backlit by soft, green light. It may have once been a warship in the second world war, but here, silent in its watery grave, it is the giver of life. It's nice to think there can be redemption even after death.

Surfacing, the waves pound into me, like a concerned mother thumping the back of a choking child. Later, back on land, I will walk as if the waves are still shaking me - the girl with the sun-kissed hair and the ocean heartbeat.

Greece: Where the Human Soul Dips and Soars

alaskarue — Sat, 22 Nov 2014 12:21:34 GMT

I know three irrevocable things about myself: I am pulled by the forces of sugar, enthralled by the things that demand immortality, and lured by the promise of the other side. Writing and traveling have always been my bare bones; they’ve merged and danced inside of me, holding me strong. I am entrenched in writing, the capturing of emotions all too fleeting, the eternalization of a single moment plucked from the strings of past, future and present, and made simply timeless. Writing and traveling are in everybody’s blood, but many have forgotten or tucked them away under the burden of comfort. I refuse. I only ache to be closer to the grand masterpiece.

Photography is pain. It tells so much in so little, more than it ever means to whisper. To offer something to the world in images is to mold camera and being as one, filter from memory tender glimpses snatched from the living, the soul bared and heaving. Pretty pictures I do not need, but photos that leave the viewer unsettled and desirous. Photos that leave us asking more of ourselves.

This scholarship would be the adventure of a lifetime. I will try to turn the audial - voices and lost songs - into visual.

The Human Soul

Ocean Sound

Greece: Where the Human Soul Dips and Soars