Reflections

by Sarah Boyd 

         Humans came forth from the sea hundreds of millions of years ago.  Well, not really humans per se.  But our early aquatic ancestors did leave their mark.  Evolutionary scientists aren’t sure exactly where or when life originated on Earth, but there’s one thing they agree upon: life came from water.  Somewhere between the formation of the oceans 4.5 billion years ago and the formation of our earliest fossils 3.5 billion years ago, conditions on Earth became just right for life to spring from the primordial seas.

         Flash forward to 375 million years ago, when our fish-like ancestors crawled out of the oceans that had been our home for millions of years.  Through trial and error, our ancestors developed lungs, limbs, hair, bigger brains, and bipedalism.  And somewhere along the way, we became human.  Our DNA, the very core of what makes us human, was inherited through generations from the very beginnings of life in the murky waters of the Earth.  The ocean is as much a part of us as our thumbprint is.

         Our human ancestors understood this and saw the ocean as an invaluable resource.  Water permeated every aspect of life for the indigenous people of Florida.  The ocean was a vessel for wonder, a source of spirituality, and a provider of food for thousands of years for the first peoples of the Southeast.  They used the ocean’s resources to their advantage, while regarding the ocean with a reverent sanctity.  The ocean was an active participant in their story.

         In the present day, our view of the ocean is warped.  We look at the ocean through multiple lenses, distorting the truest view.  Headlines flash across our TVs and phones every day: Save the Turtles, BP Oil Spill, Melting Ice Caps, Pacific Garbage Patch, Shark Attack.  We receive a barrage of media from competing interest groups, dissenting scientists, and uneducated influencers.  We have become so caught up in the issues surrounding the ocean that we have forgotten how to simply sit in the sand and listen to the waves crash against the surf.

         The house where I grew up is about half an hour from the beach, but I rarely went.  My family took the ocean for granted.  Because we knew that we could go to the beach whenever we wanted, we never felt an urgency to go.  However, from the sand that filled my yard to the seagulls that flocked to my high school’s parking lot, I was made aware that living in a coastal city affected me in many ways. 

So, when I was given the opportunity to explore those effects, I embraced it.  I was approached to take part in a new initiative with the Florida Institute of Oceanography called “Honoring the Ocean”.  The initiative’s interdisciplinary approach to studying the ocean piqued my interest, and so I took the plunge and said ‘yes’.  The classes culminated in a trip in late March on the research vessel R/V Hogarth.

         Upon boarding the Hogarth, one fact quickly became apparent: the one thing that is consistent about the ocean is its inconsistency.  We did not know exactly what time we would embark on our journey; we left land when the weather was right, and the waves were smooth enough to sail.  Though the crew had trawled in the waters we were traveling through, no one could guarantee what we would catch.  As we cruised through teal, cerulean, and navy waters, the ocean couldn’t even seem to decide on a single color.  The water was alive, and everything that is alive is constantly changing.  The sea is governed by its own rules.

         As I stood on the upper deck of the Hogarth and watched the colors of the sunset fade into constellations, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace.  In a way that is hard to explain, the ocean felt like home.  Though millions of years separated me from my fish-like ancestors, I could still feel an intrinsic connection to the water.  The lenses of outside influence were removed, and I was able to experience the sea as its own entity.  It was just the ocean and me.

Listen to the essayist read here work below.