For those who hear it, the call of the sea is undeniable. We have our reasons for diving in: to play, to work, to hunt, to heal, to claim for a few untethered moments the wildness and joy that is our birthright. But maybe there’s more to it. Like us, the ocean is unpredictable, full of contradiction and dynamism, of serenity and ferocity more felt than understood. Its surface is like the movement of our minds, a dance of light and reflection; like our minds, dark mysteries roam its depths, glimpsed in flashes of imagination and dream. We enter the sea at our peril and maybe, without realizing it, in pursuit of belonging. Suspended there, briefly without breath, our edges may blur into a kind of communion. For the seas are one sea after all—even the sea we carry within us, the salt water in our blood. We cannot stay long, but while we remain, we reclaim an ancient freedom and rejoin a family older than memory. For the past five years, photographer Elyse Butler has sought such grace in the waters around Oahu and documented what she’s found, an offering of both wonder and appreciation.
A child of the sea floats at Waimea Bay.
Ilio holo i ka uaua (Hawaiian monk seals) off Waianae.
A taape (blue-striped snapper) among a school of ulua (bigeye jacks), Hanauma Bay.
Bubbles rise from scuba divers at depth, Waianae.
Danica Swenson freedives above the dunes at Hanauma Bay.
Naia (Hawaiian spinner dolphins) off Waianae.
