Of Salt and Sweat

The sea, the restless habitation of monsters, of gods, of storms - she has forever beckoned us with promises of pleasure and plunder, and has punished us when we chose to venture too deeply, or for no good reason at all. She is our mistress - the object of our pleasure; she is our provider - but neither her largesse nor her pittances are given without a suitable sacrifice of salt and sweat; she is our muse - the wellspring of inspiration; she is our protector, and she is also our temptress and our siren - calling us to dash ourselves upon the rocks when it suits her whims. What is the salt of the ocean other than the mingled tears and sweat and labors and dreams of those who have thrown themselves into her arms?

Hemingway’s old fisherman

“…always thought of the sea as ‘la mar’ which is what people call her in Spanish when they love her. Sometimes those who love her say bad things of her but they are always said as though she were a woman. Some of the younger fishermen, those who used buoys as floats for their lines and had motorboats, bought when the shark livers had brought much money, spoke of her as ‘el mar’ which is masculine.They spoke of her as a contestant or a place or even an enemy. But the old man always thought of her as feminine and as something that gave or withheld great favours, and if she did wild or wicked things it was because she could not help them. The moon affects her as it does a woman, he thought”

- Ernest Hemingway, The Old Man and the Sea