Puttering along the Indonesian Ocean to an island an hour from the coast where sunsets and sunrises envelope each day and fishes and coral reefs fill the inbetween.

Swimming in water so thick with fish you can see the water current swirling through the school- the silver backs flash sunlight into our eyes and suddenly I’m eye to eye at the surface with a school of long tube nosed needlefish and then another swirling cyclone of smaller fish come swimming through- their limits outline our bodies as we paddle through the water- the eye of the storm- the calm center as they circle around us trying to avoid being prey. So wild. Dangerously beautiful we soar through the ocean, island to island, full of dragons and dolphins and Manta Rays and Sharks and color changing cuddlefish and the many layers of the lionfish at full sail- I don’t think I have envisioned or visited a more psychedelic place then underneath the middle of the ocean. Huge clams larger than dogs with electric green, purple, and yellow lips- coral that are perfect replicas of human hearts tiedyed in dayglow pink, green, and yellow- ginormous fish floating by like submarines, grand mountain ranges, towers, and valleys- creatures upside down and backwards with super human strength, more decked out than I am on my best paying gigs, when everything is measured in meters it’s hard to comprehend how deep I’ve actually been going- but for anyone who has enjoyed a sunset on my roof with me in manhattan – imagine those 6 or 7 stories inverted under the ocean and the buildings replaced with coral and the people replaced with fish and that’s about where I’ve been hanging out- in a mirror of my previous existence 7-10 stories deep, breathing under water.

I’ve spent lots of time swimming in the sea over the past few weeks, seafaring Indonesia as the faerie mermaid pirate that I am, which incidentally has allowed me to check in with all the scrapes and scars on my body- the roadmap of lines, moments, and events that have left their mark on my vessel, like an old boat after many years at sea. However, it doesn’t matter how many layers of paint have weathered away as long as the planks of wood are rot free and the boat still floats-I feel that over the years my vessel has only become stronger, letting go of what no longer serves me, creating a more streamlined and efficient voyage. Opening up secret treasure chests of gems and jewels I am still discovering teeming with riches I am only now bringing to the surface.