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The ocean is a big forever that allows for wondering

The ocean is a big place. And, the horizon is seemingly forever. This place is full of wonder and wonder leads to wandering and through wandering, wonder creates wander. It is here that the surface is only a moment. It is here that the brief rise and fall of a fin, elicits a rise in emotion of surprise and a continued rise in a moment of memory.

The birds dive here and they surf the thermals, here. Even though they appear careless and lost and too far at sea to be wise and with purpose, they are hunters and scavengers and beacons of life of the finest kind. They hover over the remnants of a fishing frenzy. They circle the places where the water color changes. They glide with the wind and they follow the baits and they are quiet, seen never heard. “Find the birds and you’ll find the fish,” they say. “Find the birds and you’ll find wonder,” I say. Wonder, leads to wandering.

The ocean is a big place and the horizon is a forever easel. Here the sun is bashful and full of ego. Here the moon is quiet and then her ways wreaks havoc on the tide. Here the clouds are absent and then they are elastic and forever. Here the rain squall is dark and violent and purple and black and the squall moves from left to right and right to left and it travels the contours of an invisible wind and when one is lucky, they are caught in the rain.

This rain is temporary. This rain presses against the sea and her press is asynchronous and pointed and yet it is cool and cleansing and unlike the rain that falls on the earth, this rain disappears within this water. On this easel, the clouds move and the clouds fall and the rain approaches and the rain falls and from a distance that is dark and violent, that which is dark and falls, sails onward and away and the sun is full of ego and the sky is blue and all of this is one easel of the horizon.

The ocean is a big place and wonder leads to wandering. All disappears beyond this surface. The depths of blue and unknown takes all that is untethered and that which is tethered by string and knot.

That which we seek, lurks here. That which we hope for, is found in the hopes, here.

On the troll and on the hunt, line is pulled tight here and hope swims deep and eternal here. One must be patient with the sea. For her depths are dark and deep and though the horizon stretches forever, her waters and her hidden places are both forever and unknown.

Line is tight here and a hook is sharp and the bite is phenomenal and with much splash. Line is tighter now and line disappears now and suddenly a human that feels strong and invincible and that is full of hope and wonder and pursuit, is now struggling against something unknown within a place that is unknown with a result that is very much to be unknown. Line disappears and remains tight, here.

Within this ocean that is a big place, there are big hopes and at the other end is a big fish. One looks to the sky, where the birds appear careless, for hope. One looks to the horizon, where the earth and the clouds are something characteristic of a forever. One looks to the depths of the sea, where the water is deep and the unknown is forever and line is very tight, and there is hope. The ocean is a big place and the line is slow in retrieve.

There is time and circumstance and at the other end of tight line, within the depths of what we do not know, the fish shows. It is silver against this blue. It is tug against this pull. It is hope against this free wanderer. And eventually, this becomes a catch. From the ocean where there is much big and forever, there is found success and luck. There is also tug and pull and absent evidence of a pressing rain and the moon wreaks a havoc and wonder leads to wandering and wandering leads to wonder.

Enjoy your time outdoors.

hawkinsoutdoors@msn.com

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