The Net That Holds

The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.

Wonder is not a feeling that arrives. It is what happens when you stop moving long enough to notice the specific weight of salt air, the particular angle of light on water at this hour, on this day. The net Cousteau speaks of is made of attention, knotted tight by small observations. Once you feel it, you cannot unknot yourself. You become held not by escape, but by seeing.