The Open Water

My sacred place is anywhere from the Cape Cod bay to Block Island, as long as I can see and feel the water, there is no place I would rather be. Ever since I was a little girl, I had always shared a common bond with my Father. He was my first love in the world and I wanted to be just like him. I was his shadow my entire life, and learned to love the things he did. Boat fishing was one of those loves. I do love fishing, but I have been fishing in hundreds of places, but nothing gives me the feeling I get when I'm around Massachusetts. This is my home. The water I fish is different from that in the south, or in the Caribbean. There's something about looking off the side of the boat, not being able to penetrate it's depths with my eyes, that makes me relate to this water. It's hidden, and holds so much beneath its surface. The water may not be fresh, but it's I know the healing power. Not just of the salt in my scrapes, but of  my soul. Just the thought of being out on the water brings me serenity. This place brings me back to my difficult childhood, and fills me with memories of carefree happiness and pure joy.

For this reason, I feel for the Native Americans. They respected their land because everything within it had a spirit, and it was sacred to them. Their land was destroyed and industrialized by people who could care less about protecting it. It's upsetting to think about. If the water I have loved since my youth were to be taken over and basically trashed, I would break down. There are few places in the world that it's memories can bring you immediate happiness and peace. That is what it must be like for the Native Americans. They cherish their land, but only in their minds. All they have left are memories. I, too, have memories, but I still have memories to be made.  I pray that that will never change, and I feel sorry for all the Native Americans who had been forced off their sacred land by destructive people. Only to have the ability to think of the lost sacred places.