It is a tiny patch of flatness at the base of a gentle slope, a plateau that ends abruptly in a sheer drop into the abyss. Sometimes I swim to the edge and look down into the deepening blue that darkens finally into blackness, into a world I will never know, where wondrous creatures respond to the natural rhythms of life and death beyond the reach of man. After half an hour or so, I surface, and I feel revived, resuscitated. For I take nourishment from the sea, in reality or imagination. It speaks to me of continuity, of promise, of adventure.
Some people hate it, or fear it, or feel threatened by it.
Even in times of danger, I don't personify the sea as a foe. I try not to personify it at all. I don't think of it as angry or vengeful, vicious or merciless. Throughout history, our visions of the sea have been as varied as the moods we ascribe to the sea itself. Ambivalence has been the only constant in the attitudes of human beings toward the ocean environment that once was womb to the entire race.