Collection

Near the Indian Ocean, where the Pacific begins, I arrived pretending the mission had been completed.

Nothing left. Nothing more. No one watching.

The place where the land ends and the ocean begins.

I just stepped into the ocean. It was not like the Aegean Sea, where you keep walking and the water level is still around your knees.

One step. Two steps. Three steps. And then, the deep end.

Either you swim or you drown.

I was obliged to teach myself how to swim. The waves were like a washing machine. It was better to swim underwater and come up only to breathe. Less energy, more progress, a better chance to reach the target.

No need for perfection. Just stay alive.

Breathe. Breathe. Deep breath.

Until trust in myself had been earned.

The ocean does not care if you are the chosen one. The ocean chooses nothing. It simply is.

It softened me. My muscles were not trained for swimming. I had been a tennis player my whole life, and my coaches never allowed me to swim because they believed it worked the opposite muscles.

But the ocean offered me something else: peace instead of performance, and the freedom to jump.

Jump. Jump. Jump.

I saw many people move through life like foam on the surface of the waves.

But when you look deeper, you begin to see the depth of each individual, the bottom of who I am and who they are, the hidden agendas, the pain, the suffering, the greed, the lust.

It reminded me that the real secret of human connection is the need to support, understand, acknowledge, to see and to be seen.

Respecting life. Respecting their feelings. And still remaining true to myself beneath the surface.

Yes. Let’s jump.

And let’s walk consciously on the sand, barefoot, if you dare.