The Art of Loving

Doona! (2023)

Loving the sea doesn’t mean you have to dive into its depths or conquer its waves. It doesn’t require grand gestures or acts of bravery. Sometimes, love is quieter, simpler, and yet no less profound. It can be found in the stillness of sitting at the shore, letting the soft sand cradle your feet and the rhythmic crash of waves fill the air around you. The sea, vast and infinite, doesn’t demand anything from you. It offers itself freely—its breeze, its sound, its endless horizon—as if to say that simply being here is enough.

In the movie Finding Nemo, there’s a line that says, “Just keep swimming.” It’s a simple phrase, yet it holds a profound truth about love, life, and perseverance. But what if loving the sea means not swimming at all? What if it means sitting still, letting it come to you, and embracing the fact that love doesn’t always require action? Sometimes, it’s about presence, about quietly existing in harmony with something bigger than yourself.

The sea teaches us this art of loving—how to appreciate something without needing to possess it or fully understand it. Its beauty lies in its mystery, in the way it stretches far beyond what the eye can see. There’s no need to dive in to feel its power. Just sitting by its edge, watching the waves rise and fall, is enough to remind you of life’s rhythm. The ocean mirrors our own lives, its tides reflecting our highs and lows, its calm and chaos echoing our own emotions.

In psychology, there’s a concept called mindfulness, which emphasizes being fully present in the moment. Mindfulness encourages us to appreciate the here and now without judgment or the need to change anything. Sitting by the sea is a natural practice of mindfulness. The waves don’t rush you, and the breeze doesn’t push you. You’re allowed to simply sit, breathe, and let the world move around you. This is the essence of the art of loving—not forcing, not controlling, but simply being present and open to what is.

Carl Rogers, a renowned psychologist, once said that unconditional positive regard—the act of accepting and valuing someone without conditions—is one of the most powerful forms of love. The sea embodies this perfectly. It doesn’t care who you are, where you’ve been, or what you carry in your heart. It accepts you as you are, offering its calm and its strength without asking for anything in return. In its presence, you feel lighter, as if the weight of the world is carried away by the tide.

The art of loving, as the sea teaches us, is about finding beauty in simplicity. You don’t have to dive into every relationship or experience headfirst. You don’t need to force connections or prove your worth through grand gestures. Love can exist quietly, in the moments when you sit with someone or something and simply allow it to be.

Erich Fromm, in his book The Art of Loving, talks about love as an act of giving, not taking. He emphasizes that true love isn’t about possession but about nurturing growth and connection. The sea embodies this perfectly. It gives without taking, offering its beauty, its rhythm, and its calming presence. It doesn’t ask you to stay or to give anything back. It simply lets you exist in its vastness, reminding you that love doesn’t always need to be loud or complicated.

Imagine sitting by the shore on a quiet evening, the sun dipping below the horizon and painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The waves roll in, steady and unchanging, and the wind carries the scent of salt and freedom. In that moment, you don’t need to do anything. The sea is there, and you are there, and that is enough. This is the art of loving—not rushing, not expecting, but finding contentment in the presence of something greater than yourself.

The sea also teaches us patience. It reminds us that love isn’t always immediate or easy. The waves come and go, carving the shore over time, shaping it into something new. Love, too, is a process. It grows and evolves, sometimes gently and sometimes with force, but always with a rhythm that feels natural and right.

Loving the sea means accepting it for what it is—vast, unpredictable, and ever-changing. It means appreciating its beauty without needing to own it, letting it inspire you without demanding answers. This is a lesson we can carry into our lives and relationships. Love doesn’t have to be a grand performance. It can be quiet, steady, and rooted in appreciation and respect.

The art of loving, whether it’s the sea, another person, or even yourself, is about presence. It’s about showing up, being still, and allowing the beauty of the moment to fill you. The sea doesn’t rush you, judge you, or ask you to be anything other than what you are. In its presence, you’re reminded that love isn’t about what you do but about how you feel and how you choose to be.

The next time you find yourself by the water, take a moment to sit and simply be. Feel the sand beneath you, listen to the waves, and let the wind carry your thoughts away. In that quiet moment, you’ll feel the gentle, powerful lesson of the sea: that loving doesn’t require action, only presence, patience, and an open heart. This is the art of loving—a love that is quiet yet infinite, still yet powerful, simple yet profound.