It's like a crowd of long-lost relations has gathered on the ocean shore as I'm rowing toward them in my wooden boat. They're smiling broadly, hopping up and down, sending up flares that make the air above them sparkle.
And every cell of my body is waving madly back at them, shedding the weariness of separation, lit up with homecoming.
Okay, that's a lot of drama for standing in the aisle at the grocery store. But what do I make of this sense of coming home?
As Belly Queen, I've had the opportunity to study human body and being in many dimensions. I've come to understand our bodies as portions of the ocean made portable. After all, where did life on this planet begin? In the ocean. (For my musings on this subject, see Serotonin, Peristalsis, and the Origins of Life, page 102 in The Woman's Belly Book.)
No wonder all my cells get excited at the sight of Celtic Sea Salt. French farmers have harvested this salt by hand from the coastal waters of Brittany. Standing in the aisle at the grocery store in Asheville, NC, I can hear the salt in the bin still whispering "ocean." The coarse granules put me on the scent of my ancestral home. They lay out a banquet of minerals and trace elements that my body is craving even if my mind can't put a name to the hunger.
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