We walked on the shores of Tamarack State Beach, walking off from the building where my cousin was throwing her reception. The cold low tide licked at our feet, and I stared out into the endless horizon as my cousin gave his opinion on my little brother. Letting the conversation about a diagnosis for the mental state of my younger brother slip out of my consciousness, I watched him play among the waves. I made a small chuckle as I picked up two shells with warm colors and interesting patterns. You know this place well, don’t you, brother? You know the water better than you know the land. You always have. You went to the subdivision’s pool instead of home after school, and did a great job of scaring our mother just a few months ago.

My family is full of good swimmers. The cousin that was getting married, only a few yards up the shore was an incredible swimmer, and had done well for her try-outs for the state level entry into the 2000 Olympics. However, California’s not the best place to be competing for swimming ability. She didn’t make it into the state team, but I’ve always thought it awesome of her for trying.

Humans have such an obsession with the elements, the four basic elements listed by so many different authors, thinkers, and cultures. Earth, Fire, Water, and Wind. I once had a long conversation with a good friend about an assortment of things, and one of the things we agreed on was that we would both adhere to the water element if we were purely elemental. He then argued that people in general on the subject of humanoid races, saying that people would rarely be anything other than elves, which I argued with him on.

However, Water is the one thing I prefer to experience alone. When I’m swimming, alone or with others, my imagination puts me in a state where it is me alone, and the ancient yet always novel environment I find myself surrounded by. I imagine myself as multiple creatures of the waters, mythical or real. In natural pools, rivers, lakes, or seas, the mud or sand in my feet is more real and more enjoyable than the dense earth that the land is formed of. I also learned how to keep my eyes open under water—and to this day I swear that the chlorine in pools is what ruined my eyes. I do admit that genetics probably did the trick too, considering that my mom is legally blind.

However, my favorite experience with Water has not been with community pools, lakes, rivers, or even backyard pools. In fact, I never touched the water in this event, but instead almost levitated above it.

I had been with these people for hours. The church-goers that I could not stand, and could not speak around unless spoken to. It didn't matter if I spoke--I would not be regarded 95% of the time. However, over the luckily few years I had spent with them, my regard for them had become cold. My feelings for them were and are as dark as the waters we stood at. However, something fun was about to happen after hours of work, so I was ready for a change of pace.

For the last four hours, we had built rafts to cross a portion of the lake at our camp. Night had covered the skies, and so we went by lamp lights. Girls went on these rafts, two by two, making their way to a bridge and then coming back. A long thread was set up for us to guide ourselves by, and we were given a long pole to move with. No one wanted to cross with me, and so I crossed alone, the last of the group.

I was the only one that made the journey alone, and I am actually happy for the opportunity to have done so. I rarely feel comfortable with my surroundings, and this was a total immersion of comfort. Every part of my knew that I was in balance with my environment and within my element. I balanced myself on the raft made of wood, rubber tubes, and rope, folding my legs in the lotus position and smiling as if I were a bodhisattva. Then, I picked up the 6 foot-long PVC pipe and made my way.

I felt as powerful as death and as calm as the void below my raft. I looked down at the still water that reflected a pitch black sky, and for a few moments believed that I was on the river Styx. I was just making my way down a still river of space and stars to the next plane of existence. It was a spiritual experience, moving from the dock to the bridge. If there was any stimuli outside of the silence of the water, I don't remember it in any vivid detail. Perhaps there were things said by the girls and the youth leaders. I did not care: I was in a much more tranquil and meditative place than within the bonds of their social circles.

From the bridge back to the dock, I felt that tranquility fall away as I saw my destination. I didn't want to be a part of humanity. This peace of the water and of emptiness was what I wanted. I never wanted to leave--this was my element! This was my environment! This place was my home, more comfortable and suitable for my spirit than a womb is for a fetus!

However, I did not delay too long on the water. I knew that I had to leave. I was not just born of water--I was born of many elements, places, memories, and people. I could not shame them by committing myself to one facet of my life. When I would find that environment where I would not have to fear, it would include much more than just silence.

Water is a better carrier of sound than air. It should not be resigned to silence because of how still it can appear, and how it can feel like a resounding orchestra of calm upon the skin when one swims underwater. May it remain a meditative element for the cultures of the world, while not forgetting that water can be bubbling, babbling, steaming, and destructive. It is just as anthropomorphic as any other element, if not the most out of the four.