The Deep Blue

#PlanetOrPlastic

Some days I crave the ocean. Crave its vehement temperament or its harmonious disposition. There were days I craved the shore, the tiny grains of sand, laid as flat as paper. The tide would scream but also exhale, drawing in a breath before releasing it slowing as it stretched its belly against the sand, crawling inch after inch until it finally soaks into the ground.

Years ago I remembered swimming in the turquoise sanctuary. Floating in a void free of gravity. The ocean was something I loved, something I respected. I understood it's beauty and its dangers. I had found it fascinating how the wind ushered the waves onto the beach, their fingers gently curving against the stones near the edge. The sun would shine against the rippling water, its ancient light wrapped in the twisted glass ripples. There was no description in which could truly express the mystical majesty, yet only a few words can truly describe beauty.

I returned recently, to the tides in which once was the perfect home for creatures big and small, prey and predator. I had swum In those heavenly depths with one of those imperial animals.

A stingray, any of a number of flat-bodied rays noted for the long sharp spines of their tails. I swam above its disk-shaped body and its flexible, tapering tails armed, with its saw-edged, venomous spines. Despite its deadly appearance, it was a shy and docile creature as I guided myself through the serene waves.

Unfortunately, there was only one thing that stopped it from being perfect.

The plastic.

So much of it littered the ocean. So much of it that I was practically blinded in the murky waves. Tons of plastic debris, which varied in size from large containers, fished nets to microscopic plastic pellets, was discarded everywhere.

The stingray expertly avoided each piece as if it knew from experience how potentially deadly it would be to come in contact with it.

I'd seen this on the news before. Countless reports had been made about this situation but I had never taken it seriously until now. Seeing it, swimming in it, viewing it how the animals lived in it from day to day, always at the risk of suffocating or swallowing something that humans had created. It wasn't until then that I truly understood.

They then would complain about what had been done, complain and find others to blame for their mistakes. I knew this because I had done it myself. Whenever we made a mistake it was hard to take responsibility for our actions. That was just the natural response to moments like that because people didn't think about the future in those moments but if people came together if they discussed more environmentally friendly ways to go about our everyday lives then maybe just maybe we can make things change. After all, when it came down to it people were blind fools of fate and slaves or circumstance.