For me, serenity can be found in the waves and the inspiration their forms ignite. This is an unconditional arrangement. Even when the waves impersonate surly, hormonal teenagers as their arcs crash into the shoreline, peace interestingly can still be located in the chaos.
In her clever novel Possession, A.S Byatt presents an interesting theory for why, women particularly, might find pleasure in the throb of the ocean;
I myself believe that the pleasure of the fall of the waves on the shores is to be added to this delight, their regular breaking a profound relation to the successive shiverring delights of a female orgasm.
For those who feel a similar connection to the waves, a link which they feel can’t be explained (or at least can’t explained in less then a sentence), I recommend reading Virginia Woolf’s The Waves. A great example of when modernism is fun.
Posted in response to the Daily Post Photo Challenge,