The Deletist

Have you ever been asked if you would prefer to have wings or a tail?  I always answer “tail” but the overwhelming majority of people pick “wings”.  Whenever I ask “why wings” the answer is always the same, “then I could fly.”  However, not all wings are designed for flying and wings are not the only way to fly.

If we think about how often and in which contexts we use the phrase “flying through…” we might be surprised to discover wings are not always present.  We use “flying” to describe feelings of weightlessness, soaring through air, or moving at terrific speeds, not all of which require wings.  Additionally many animals accomplish flying in ways that diverge from wings and/or air.  Think about flying fish, penguins, or other diving birds that use their wings to “fly” in the water.  Consider fast moving land animals, such as cheetahs or gazelles, that are often described as flying.

I discovered my “wings” through swimming.  Nothing makes me feel better than flying through the water. Last summer I went swimming in the Atlantic Ocean while vacationing on Fire Island.  At the time I was recovering from a shoulder injury and had been swimming less than usual.  I had been restricted from doing butterfly specifically because it’s so strenuous.

One day in the salt water, surrounded by waves, an irresistible urge took over.  And then I did it, a few flaps of fly just to remember the sensation of “flying through the water.”  For a few brief moments I was a great sea creature, like a penguin or dolphin, propelling myself effortlessly through the waves.  The rush, the feeling, soaring through the air and water against the dynamic motion of the waves and the undertow.  Incredible.  My shoulder reacted later with a few sharp pangs, but it was totally worth it.

How could I resist?

*Bonus: Why do I always pick tail?  There’s no rational reason. I think tails are cool and extremely expressive for most animals.  I have a natural aversion to feathers so the thought of having feathered appendages coming out of my back sounds creepy.  To me having “wings” is not synonymous with flying.  What if I got dirty pigeon wings?  Or small sparrow wings that couldn’t lift me off the ground?  Also wearing shirts would be challenging.  A tail seems easier to accommodate.

Every time I visit my friends on Fire Island I get up early and go for long walks.  For years I’ve been trying to get a glimpse of this elusive red fox that so many people on the island seem to see early in the morning.  On one of my long morning walks I was reminded of the restorative nature of the ocean.  I inhaled the salty moist air deeply into my lungs.  It felt like a treat after living near fresh water for 6 years.  The carefully placed fencing in the sand dunes reminded me of the locals’ efforts to restore, protect, and preserve the dunes after they were leveled by Hurricane Sandy in 2012.

Fencing is used to help collect sand and rebuild the natural dunes.

The relentless shushing motion of the waves reminds me that nothing stays in a state of permanence.  Everything is constantly moving, evolving, and smoothing out the rough edges over time.  The same way the ocean waves round out the sharp, jagged edges on shells and glass.  Or the way the waves can wash up new marvels everyday, so filled with life.

The waves washed up a piece of a horseshoe crab shell filled with tiny mussels thriving inside.

On the first day of my visit small pebbles and shells were left behind.  The second day they were replaced by a line of stringy brown seaweed marking the tide line.  Day three brought hundreds of clear jellies who lay shimmering helplessly in the sand.

The waves also attracted some visitors from the land.  A mother and her fawn licked each other clean in the early morning rays.

Mother & Fawn licking each other clean.

Throughout my visit I collected shells each day at the beach.  I got up super early my last day to be near the waves one last time before catching the ferry.  I took my piles of shells.  Standing before the ocean, I named each one before releasing it back to smooth out my worries and troubles.  To hold my thoughts and dreams.  To keep them evolving while smoothing out the rough edges.

The ocean, a place of transformation and restoration.