The entire crossing I have been in silent communion with the ocean, watching the colors change as the wind slides the sun across the current lines, light and dark side by side. Weather systems roll and moan across The Pacific and illuminate blue ribbons into distinct pattern and quality; navy, Prussian, indigo, indanthrone—all variations indicating different temperature, texture and direction to that section of sea water. As we descend closer I can see how the ocean breathes. Not against the land in tidal surge but out further, just beyond where the movement wraps the outermost reef of the island. This heave of the mother sea is truer and more continuous to even our heartbeat because it is there before you, and there after you leave this earth.