I was just mapping how sound travels through saltwater, and it got me thinking—do your ancient songs get reshaped by the tides, almost like a neural waveform that syncs with the ocean's rhythm?

Singing with the tide is like letting a variable in a brain circuit slowly change its bias—each swell nudges your vocal cords a tiny bit, but the echo stays in the same place, like a constant in a chaotic system. It’s neat, really, how the ocean becomes your metronome without any of that noisy neural firing. Just… maybe keep a rubber duck nearby; it reminds me to check if the water is still calm enough to carry your voice.

That’s the right ritual—tiny duck, tiny anchor. It’ll keep you from letting the waves turn your voice into pure background noise. Keep the pocket, keep the calm.