coming clean

If you’ve read anything by me, you may have noticed my penchant for elemental imagery and metaphor, particularly where fire and water are concerned. I find that there is something not only very romantic but also incredibly erotic about these elements. And though I’m a fire being as far as the stars are concerned, I’ve always had a special place in my heart (and my loins) for water, with her being the more feminine of the two. In fact, I just wrote a story that was inspired by some of the feels that a beautifully bleak — melancholy and romantic — seaside evokes in me.

There are too many angles I could take for how my love of the sea manifests and the endless lore its birthed. I decided to look at where that love may have originated, and upon some quick reflection, it seems pretty obvious how it came about…

Canada touches three of the world’s major oceans, yet the little city where I was born is smack dab in the in the middle of the country (i.e. as far as you can get from any marine life whatsoever.) With the Pacific about 1900km (~1200 miles) to the west, the Atlantic at 4000km (~2500 miles) to the east, and the Arctic some 3000km (~1900 miles) to the north, you can’t really get more anti-coastal than where I grew up.

So for Little Jayne, the big, elusive, briny sea was a thing of epic mythology; I fantasized about the ocean the same way other children might dream of dragons or fairies or unicorns or ghosts. (Though all of those things were high on my list of things to believe in too.)

However, it wasn’t until one particular night on a little island of the east coast of Thailand not three years ago that my Neptunian fascination finally took a turn towards the erotic…


I’d just spent the day cracking my heart open wider than it had ever gone before, surrounded by a handful of gorgeous humans who became lifelong friends and lovers after a month of intense soul work. It was late November, but it wasn’t the kind of Novembers I was used to back in Canada.

The heady night breeze drifting in from the Gulf of Thailand was warm on my tear-flecked cheeks when I left the hall alone. I was full to the brim with love, having surrendered all fear and self-doubt if only for a moment. I stepped carefully in the dark down the slatted wood steps of the footbridge leading toward solid, sandy ground, floating on this sensation of unfamiliar lightness.

I may have passed a few familiar human faces on the way too but if so, none of us exchanged so much as a glance. We were all still moving through the haze of our most recent awakening.

As I made my way on light bare feet through to the other side of the dark, tree-laden corridor, I was met by the familiar lights of the seaside dining hall. I saw some of my group already congregated there, ordering tea or water or beer or nothing. But I wasn’t ready to engage with any of that. I couldn’t even remember yet how to speak.

I looked up at the stars twinkling quietly overhead. A Hunter’s moon was high in the sky nestled amongst them. She beckoned me to her; I couldn’t resist.

That first step into the cool, fine sand on the beach was like the hug of the good side of the pillow. The wind picked up and blew my long, sun-kissed hair around as I made my way towards my private shoreline on the south-east corner of the island.

This weird little slab of quartz floating just off the mainland served as a retreat and sanctuary for those looking to shake away the mundanity of western living. Whether that was in the form of drug-frenzied night-long bacchanals or highly restorative yoga retreats, the island didn’t judge.

The waves swept for metres up the shoreline, slowly crawling over sand and stone to erase any sign past visitors. It was as if the canvas had been cleared just for me. 

All I was wearing that night was a simple black beach dress. I pulled it off over my head and hid it under some coconut husks at the base of a palm tree, out of reach of the grabby waves. My barely bronzed skin glowed in the milk-white light of the moon and let the shadows lead me out me to the shoal.

The water was warm on my toes, the sand caving under the weight of each conscious step. With the moon above and the sea at me feet, it was like being welcomed home, right into nurturing the arms of my long-lost sisters from whom I’d been unfairly separated at birth.

The waves lapped at my edges, drinking in every inch of my body until their salty kiss threatened the inside of my mouth. I lifted myself then to my back and floated on their rocking surface, spreading myself out like a single, glimmering star bobbing on a black sea-sky. When I opened my eyes again, I met the moon’s smiling gaze. Her great sweeping halo of white light reached out to all corners of the clear night sky, blending out the stars above and below for miles and encircling me in her glowing reflection.

The sea whispered sweet invitations into my ears, asking me to trust her. And trust her, I did. I surrendered myself to her arms and slipped into the hypnotic sway of her lullaby rhythm.

Like a crystal being cleansed by the greater universal powers, the rays of the moon bled through the dark nurturing water into me, washing me clean of any lingering worries that had been shaken loose during our rites of passage earlier that day.

I was taken aback by how completely I was consumed by the super-charge of feminine energy. I felt the heat of my core competing with the cooler kiss of the winds and waters on all sides of my vessel, while my hand drifted on its own accord, or perhaps at the wish of one of these great sisters, to my own sacred source.

Without any sense of destination or objective, I explored the folds of my being, both above and below the water’s edge. She licked at me in ways no mouth ever has, the lash of her tongues more focused and more comprehensive than any mortal mouth could ever be.

And through it all, she never let me go.

The moon watched on with calm admiration as I rose and fell with every crest, inviting me to let the waves take me, to feel their sway not only on my flesh, but within it. My hips bucked and rolled as I painted the sacred circles of every woman who had come before me into my body, pushed overboard by the encouragement of my eternal sisters.

Just as the greatest wave that builds at sea ends as a soft wash on the shore, the build in me was face-scrunchingly intense while the release was unassuming and gentle. As if it was trickling calmly with the current back along a tributary to the main body. I made no sound as I melted back into the waves. I felt perfect equanimity; equally balanced with every thread of this great elemental shroud.

I don’t know how long I floated there; I only opened my eyes because my head knocked against a rock just below the surface. I had drifted back towards the shore.

I was reluctant to leave the nourishing safety of the womb. But I was on a serious path of evolution, to my next lifetime. The moon nodded her reassurance: it was time to take my first steps on land as a new being.

When I found my dress at the foot of the palm tree and put it back on to my dripping wet body, I turned back to see where I’d come from. The line where the sea ended and the night sky began, the line on which I’d floated for goddess only knows how long, was nowhere to be seen. They were as one, and for a fleeting, magical moment, so was I.


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