- Voices of the Ocean
The way of the water
The first time I felt the water wrap around me, I knew I had found something special.
It was a crisp morning when I approached the Ocean, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, casting a golden hue over everything it touched. I had always loved water—its ebb and flow, the way it seemed to have a life of its own—but that day was different.
As I slid into the Ocean, the cool water enveloped my body, instantly washing away the heaviness that clung to me like a second skin. The weight of my disability, the constant ache in my joints, and the ever-present strain of daily life seemed to dissolve, leaving only the sensation of being cradled by the gentle waves.
Despite my inability to swim, I felt a profound sense of autonomy in the water.
I could maneuver myself, floating with the gentle currents that brushed against me, guiding me wherever they wished. I had often felt confined to my wheelchair, limited in movement and opportunities, but here, I was liberated. I was in control of my own body in a way I hadn’t experienced on land. Each push and pull of the water felt like a dance, a rhythm that allowed me to glide, sway, and spin in a graceful ballet, even if I wasn’t swimming in the traditional sense.
Floating on my back, I gazed up at the sky, the clouds shifting and morphing into fantastical shapes. It felt as if the Ocean was whispering to me, reminding me of a freedom I often forgot existed. Each ripple that passed over me was like a hand brushing away my worries, the pressure in my body gradually releasing with every gentle movement of the water.
It reminded me of the hydrotherapy sessions I’d attended, where the water was meant to heal, yet those moments had always been tinged with the stinging scent of chlorine and the sounds of shouting voices. Here, those distractions were removed. The Ocean was pure and unadulterated, a sanctuary where I could truly appreciate water in the way it had been intended—soft, soothing, and enveloping. There was no urgency, no pressure to perform or meet expectations; just the serene rhythm of nature and my own breathing.
I took a deep breath and sank beneath the surface, feeling the coolness surround me like a protective cloak.
In the quiet depths, I found a serenity I craved. It was just me and the water, the world above muted and distant. I closed my eyes and listened to the soft thrumming of my heartbeat, the rhythm syncing with the gentle lapping of waves against my skin. In those moments, I was no longer defined by my disability; I was simply a part of the Ocean, a drop in an endless sea.
With each visit, the Ocean became my sanctuary.
I would return time and again, ready to release the pressures of the outside world. The water was more than a refuge; it was a partner in my journey, granting me a sense of autonomy that I struggled to find on land. I could move freely, guided by the water’s embrace, discovering the possibilities that lay within me. It taught me that sometimes, to find solace, I simply needed to surrender to the flow.
Thank you for raising your voice for the Ocean, Phoebe!
Connect with Phoebe on LinkedIn, or learn about how to submit your own Wavemaker Story here.
