It has been three days since we have seen land. The wind gods have granted us calm seas, temperatures in the mid-70s, and a deep blue ocean. There is something special about calm days at sea; a certain peace of mind tends to roll across the ship. Between lectures and meals, each of us stakes claim to a place on the ship to take in the vast ocean view–some writing, some reading, others enjoying a siesta or a long chat on the bow with another passenger. We are so far from land, but all of us settle into ordinary moments in the most extraordinary setting.
As I sat on the sun deck, I began to poll my fellow passengers as they trickled by: “How would you describe the blue of the ocean right now?”
Most paused, struggling to find the right descriptor. No one felt great about their answer as they listed, “So blue,” “deep blue,” “indigo blue,” “Atlantic blue?”…
On days like today, the ocean is impossible to describe by characterizing the hue of blue; it is a feeling, a state of mind. As we watched the day go by, the blues changed until evening when we watched sunset. We gathered for the “green flash” as the sun dipped behind the Atlantic Ocean.