The Ocean Feel is my personal platform—free from the constraints and expectations of ordinary surroundings. It exists as a space for expressing a universal sense of being. An ocean of thoughts, a mind reaching the shore, capturing an eternal moment just before it is washed away by noise.
Though dismissed by the psychologist Sigmund Freud, the “oceanic feeling” was embraced by his correspondent Romain Rolland as a state of dissolution of the ego and boundless expansion—“the absolute catharsis,” as he described it. These rare and treasured moments of peace transcend understanding, yet feel deeply familiar when they return.
The Ocean Feel is my attempt to express those moments — shaped by inspiration and experienced while simply being in this world.
L’ homme et la mer
Homme libre , toujours tu chériras la mer !
La mer est ton miroir ; tu contemples ton âme
Dans le déroulement infini de sa lame,
Et ton esprit n’est pas un gouffre moins amer .
Tu te plais à plonger au sein de ton image ;
Tu l’embrasses des yeux et des bras , et ton coeur
Se distrait quelque fois de sa propre rumeur
Au bruit de cette plainte indomptable et sauvage .
Vous êtes tous les deux ténébreux et discrets :
Homme , nul n’a sondé le fond de tes abîmes ,
O mer , nul ne connaît tes richesses intimes ,
Tant vous êtes jaloux de garder vos secrets !
Et cependant voilà des siècles innombrables
Que vous vous combattez sans pitié ni remord ,
Tellement vous aimez le carnage et la mort ,
O lutteurs éternels , ô frères implacables !
Charles Baudelaire
Man and the Sea
Free man, you’ll always love the sea — for this,
That it’s a mirror, where you see your soul
In its eternal waves that chafe and roll;
Nor is your soul less bitter an abyss.
in your reflected image there to merge,
You love to dive, its eyes and limbs to match.
Sometimes your heart forgets its own, to catch
The rhythm of that wild and tameless dirge.
The two of you are shadowy, deep, and wide.
Man! None has ever plummeted your floor —
Sea! None has ever known what wealth you store —
Both are so jealous of the things you hide!
Yet age on age is ended, or begins,
While you without remorse or pity fight.
So much in death and carnage you delight,
Eternal wrestlers! Unrelenting twins!
— Roy Campbell, Poems of Baudelaire (New York: Pantheon Books, 1952)
Since as long as I can remember, my soul has been drawn to the endless blue—captivated by it, never once satisfied. The vastness of an archipelago that sometimes rests quietly within me, and at other times rises into waves that break through every boundary I try to set.
As a child, I would gather all my breath, take the deepest one, fill my lungs with courage, and dive in. “To live inside it,” I would say. I would reach the bottom, holding onto rocks, corals, and drifting seaweed, pressing my fingers into its depths—trying to tame it, to make it mine. Even knowing I would lose that battle. Its inner beauty could never be contained within something human. And when my eyes could no longer bear it, I would rush back to the surface.
The freedom of the blue made no exceptions.
It left within me a space that only the ocean could fill. The restless beast of my anxiety wandered endlessly, unable to settle. No matter how I tried to grasp it, it slipped away. My eyes could only give it shape, never hold it. It moved with quiet mastery, never caught off guard—yet it let me join its game of waves, adding my own melody to its music.
I would reach the shore exhausted. Gently, I would touch it, as if to calm it, then sit on the rocks, listening closely—hoping its waves might reveal their secrets. There, its strength met my gaze. Boundless, it continued to unfold before me: peaceful, rhythmic, pure.
The blue taught me early that it could never belong to me. It stripped away my need to possess.
We were always one. What you truly love is not meant to be owned. In those moments, within this universal lagoon, a quiet unity unfolds—where everything becomes one, for eternity and beyond it.
A wide smile. A warm embrace.
The essence of everything, held within a single, eternal moment.