It hasn’t always been a source of tranquility. Growing up around coastal/fishing communities taught me a deep respect of how harsh and unforgivingly indifferent the sea can be to us mere mortals; sometimes exacting the harshest toll in payment from those who would seek to exploit it.
And yet, despite that, being near the sea can provide an sense of peace.
I have mentioned before, my love of a particular beach at Arillas on the northwest of the Greek island of Corfu. Part of its appeal is that it is “clothing optional”; I have made no secret of the fact that, where custom dictates, I dispense with clothing outdoors. For the most part, being naked outdoors is not overtly sexual, or about sex, although I will admit that I have, in fact, had sex on the very beach I am now referring to. That, however, is not the point of this particular post.
There is something serene about the location, the long curving beach that runs for about a kilometer beneath some very imposing cliffs. On top of those cliffs is a particularly nice taverna with the most amazing views, but that is another story.
There is something particularly relaxing about hearing the waves breaking softly on the shore as the sun soaks into my pale skinned northern body. The clear, shallow waters are a delight to swim in, and are plentiful in marine life to watch as you share their realm with them. Climbing back on to dry land, the “clothing optional” nature has another advantage in that you don’t have to endure heavy, wet material clinging uncomfortably to you as it dries.
For me, there is something very medatative about being at one with nature at the boundary between those two natural worlds; where dry land meets the sea. The heat of the sun, the dryness of the sand underfoot and warmth of the water all play to the sensualist side of my nature.
Like Molly, I don’t know if thalassophillia is a kink/fetish. Being by and/or in the sea may not always be sexual but, for me at least, it is always sensual.