by Kirstin Nehr, May 2025.
In this moving reflection, this month’s contributor, Kirsten Nehr, shares her lifelong connection to the sea and the healing it has offered through life’s many tides. From childhood memories of ocean heroines to scuba diving in Indonesia and quiet moments in a Mediterranean cove, Kirsten explores how the sea has soothed heartbreak, supported transitions, and offered a sanctuary for emotional grounding. A beautiful meditation on nature, identity, and resilience—this piece invites us to reflect on where we go to remember who we are.
The sea has always been part of me—woven into the fabric of my life for as long as I can remember. If I pause to trace this love to its origin, it brings me back to a childhood memory: I must have been five when I regularly watched a television show called Oceania, where a woman lived on an island and could hear the cries of whales in distress. Without hesitation, she would dive into the ocean and swim out to save them, gliding through the water at their side. Sadly, it’s hard to find any YouTube videos of the show, but I can still picture the scenes vividly.
To me, she was a hero—strong, graceful, fearless, and deeply connected to nature. Whist I also admired the Disney movie character Pocahontas, another iconic figure attuned to the earth, Oceania was the one who captured my heart. She made me believe that the sea was a place of purpose, where courage and compassion met with the wild beauty of the world.
Born in August, the Mediterranean summers have always been the highlight of my year. Long, golden days spent on the beach with salt in my hair, the sun on my skin, and the sea gently calling. I loved to swim underwater, holding my breath as long as I could, pushing myself to go deeper, longer. Eventually, those games turned into hobby—scuba diving became second nature to me as soon as I was old enough. At 14, I began my underwater journey, and later at university, I specialized in marine biology, spending three unforgettable months in Indonesia studying coral health.
The sea is more than a place. It is a feeling. It is home. A sanctuary that has held and healed me at life’s crossroads—through first heartaches, career transitions, and moments when I needed to remember who I truly am. A walk along the sea never fails to bring me back to centre.
Oddly, this affinity doesn’t necessarily come from my family; it feels like something intrinsic, inexplicable. Maybe some things aren’t meant to be rationalised. When I scuba-dive or swim beneath the surface, I enter a realm of peace—a quiet meditation where time fades, and I exist only in rhythm with the waves. Down there, nobody can reach you. Nobody can bother you. Nobody can cross your boundaries. It’s just you, the soft sound of bubbles brushing your cheeks, and the graceful movements of fish living their lives. I could float for hours, feeling full of infinite curiosity, watching the coral breathe and dance with colour. Sometimes I joke that I must have been a fish in another life.
Though I adore all bodies of water, the Mediterranean Sea is my soul’s true home. There is something so special and familiar in its deep blues, its gentle safety, that instantly soothes me. I found a hidden cove during the stillness of the COVID years—where France meets Italy, and time seems to pause. There, you can slip into the sea from the rocks where the water immediately envelops your body like a protective blanket with France on your right and Italy on your left. The water is clear, sacred. I would float like a starfish, arms wide, ears submerged in the muffled sound of waves, sky stretched endlessly above me. It became a place of dreaming, of healing, of imagining all that could be in the midst of the uncertainty that the world had just been plunged into. I still return every year to find renewed inspiration.
Now, sitting in my London home, I feel the pull again—that gentle (and daily) ache for the sea. I dream that one day, I’ll wake to the sight of the Mediterranean sea outside my window. It will be the gift I give myself: a return to the source. The sea, with its quiet strength, will always be there, ready to hold me with its healing power.