From the nearly invisible depths of the Ocean-Sea emerged a nearly invisible creature, soaking in the world around her. The Jellyfish watched rich colors dance through the water in choreographed rhythms, and she was amazed by this theater that came to life each day. Every dot on the vibrating stage had its costume to don and its script to follow. Even in its chaos, the performance was always magnificent.
The Jellyfish loved to wander, collecting varied impressions as she passed through the Ocean-Sea in thoughtful observation. She witnessed Tadpoles taking their first short gulps of breath, Great White Sharks swerving open-mouthed chasing after their nostrils, and Puffer Fish ballooning at the slightest hint of fear. She watched Oysters applaud the courtship dance of Seahorses and Herring cascade across each other in layers of highway. There was as much color swarming and sparkling as the coral that backdropped them. As much constant motion and mingling as the water molecules that enveloped them.
The Jellyfish felt different from the other Ocean-Sea dwellers. She didn’t shimmer with the vivid colors that surrounded her, she was transparent. She didn’t move with the forthrightness that raced by her, she floated. When she bobbed her wiry tentacles to her line of sight, she only saw the reflections of the creatures that swam by. When the tides turned and her friends made their seasonal migrations to new hemispheres, the Jellyfish buoyed steadily between shallow and deep waters. She was comfortable in her own skin, but she often longed for the clarity that seemed to guide the lives of other creatures. At times she felt unknown, like a ghost passing through space in the background of a grand production. She wondered if she would one day have her own starring role to play.
Concealed by inquisitive eyes, these thoughts occupied the Jellyfish when a shiny movement caught her attention. As she shifted her gaze, it flickered between and vanished behind the flowing arms of an Anemone. The Jellyfish normally avoided getting too close to other creatures, fearing that one of her tentacles would inadvertently cause a wave of electric shock. On this occasion, however, she felt compelled to come closer. The Jellyfish and Anemone gently oscillated in the liquid breeze, until a Clownfish timidly poked its head out. A bright light flashed from his fiery scales and coated her visual field. The Clownfish was transfixed, eyes growing wide as he stared back at the Jellyfish’s potent arms not in fear, but in awe. “Perhaps he’s never seen a creature like me,” she thought. But when she picked her head up, other fish had paused in their tracks as well, as though the water had frozen solid. They all wore the same look of incredulity as the Clownfish, and when she peered down at herself, she understood why. Her tentacles bore the same bright orange sheen as the Clownfish. The glow that colored her vision had actually been her own. She propelled away from the crowd of coral onlookers to deeper water. A few crimson Crabs were wrestling in the sand, clasping their claws more at the water than at each other. She approached them, breaching her typical distance once again. A rich red glow blossomed with every inch she closed in. Swimming deeper still, she found an isolated clearing to absorb this new experience. The Jellyfish examined her gelatinous skin, as if for the first time. The Clownfish orange and Crab red had faded slightly, but their glows still lingered. And there were other hues as well. A streak of slimy green along her back that reminded her of the Eel, teal from the Manta Ray in patches along one tentacle, the saffron of the Starfish spread across her underbelly.
The Jellyfish was not transparent. She was translucent, and she could glisten like the rainbow that bled from the sky if she desired, or she could float between colors as she floated through the sea. Her curious wanderings were not a distraction from her journey of self-discovery, they were part of the answer. And when she opened herself to the world, the nearly invisible transformed into vibrant life. Her route was not charted, but to float was to be unshackled from predictable endings. To be no color was to welcome the entire spectrum. To have no script meant adapting to the rhythms of life’s own improvisation. The Ocean-Sea may have written colorful destinies for many of its inhabitants, but the Jellyfish would write her own.