The world is a bubble. Slight eddies of oil like colors make it hard to define: land…or sea. There is no wind. The sea is like glass, blown glass sunsets add a golden light that settles over the land like those old time sepia photographs. On the water it shimmers like a seductive lace negligee draped over the curves of the ocean below.
I have seen this. I have sat on the bow of a sailing vessel, stood at the railing of a Cruise Ship, waded out into a glass sea, waist deep, laid down and floated. Becoming part of the bubble myself. People take photos that win awards when they run into a glass sea near Alaska. Sheer snow covered peaks raise above you mere feet from shortchanged, or maybe under you- the glass reflection makes it hard to separate whether the wine colored sky is above you, below you, or somewhere in between.
Some people thank God when they see what I saw. A sharp intake of breath is the opening stanza of the short prayer that follows: “Oh. My. God. It so beautiful!” Whispered…never spoken out loud. Perhaps God would even smile a shy smile and admit: “That is some good work, isn’t it?”
Some folks, like me, stand stunned, words failing to even try to form. Others shed a tear to see the world (perhaps for the first time) as it is without the bias of industry, human habitation, or technology. It glows.
If you are lucky enough to be with someone you love when the sea turns the sky to glass in a mirror of its own life- clouds swimming lazily below you as thoughts drift with the pillow like clouds above you- your brain stuck in neutral trying to orient itself to up…or down. And failing.
If you are that lucky, to have a partner with you, a friend, maybe even a lover, or all three- your hands will reach for each others. A conduit to steady you to the onslaught of visual and visceral emotions on a palette of glass, a bubble, a bowl, a bounty of glory. You will support each other as you are drawn into a world that doesn’t need sound.
Words would be garish intrusions as unwelcome and gauche as thoughts of maybe running to get a camera or smartphone. This view isn’t there to be recorded, it is there to be experienced. To be felt. To brush up against the gate of your soul, unlock the humility that true beauty with no artifice rains down on your insignificance. You are a speck, a particle, an atom- so little in comparison to the Universe of Joy in front of you that even your thoughts of self identity get lost - you are nothing but part of everything. So you stare.
By now, some of you at least, think I am exaggerating. I am not. I could not. There are not words big enough to bring whine colored skies, emerald green waters, soaring white peaks reflected in water that is sprinkled with gold edges- without an ounce of movement, motion, measure of speed…or time. A glass sea, in a bowl bubble of a cove, bay, or estuary…strips meaning from all the trite quotes anyone could come up with.
Words don’t fail you, they are simply inadequate to the task. If you think I am filling this scene with hyperbole, then you haven’t sat on the bow of a boat in a cove filled with glass seas. Nor have you been on the Open Seas in Glass calm waters where the word “infinite” finally starts to shape a glimpse of how big the Universe really is in your mind. Not a definition, but a definite insight.
A cliche applies before I leave this tale of glass fairyland that inhabits the Earth in Reality…just not very often. And it is this cliche I choose to end with: