The ocean is not blue.

It’s gold in the weight of the sun, sparkling the dust of fire and gilded in the heat of summer. It’s dark black where the waves fold and curl, hiding itself from the gaze of sunlight. It’s also white – of clouds, day dreams, drifting thoughts.

The ocean is continuous – like calculus, or finite element analysis. Just like how a derivative breaks down at a discontinuity, the ocean wouldn’t be the way it is if it wasn’t ever flowing. Funny how thoughts of math would creep into my contemplation.

But then, if you think about it, who doesn’t desire continuity? What else are we wishing our friends when we send them off and say “safe travels”, “hope you settle in quickly”, “hope you’re doing fine”?

Earlier this summer while I was sailing between Jericho and Holly Burns, I watched the water move and the clouds drift. I thought, how easy would life be if it was more like the ocean. Then we could apply calculus to everything and solve the meaning of life! As complicated as math looks, it is nothing compared to the uncertainties and sudden changes of life – discontinuities. A violent break from the flow and our hearts are broken; and it takes so much time to heal from that disruption.

The ocean is not blue; it is sad from the predictability of its routine: waves on waves and waves. But sometimes, I wouldn’t want to have it any other way, because though smooth and flowing, it is never the colour it seems to be.

And that will sum up my first week overseas: like the ocean.