Beach Walk
It is quiet on the beach. And bright. The ocean is nearly flat, moving away from the shore in gradated rows of deepening blue. A gentle rustle, like liquid wind, rises from the water as it unfolds against the shore. It leaves a white ruffled edge and recedes. The crisp air smells starched. My breaths are hard-edged and metallic and make me stand up straighter.
The sun is as clear and sharp as the air. It shines a triangle of light across the dark water. The wide base at the horizon narrows to a point on the beach. Inside this isosceles triangle the light sparkles and dances upwards to its source. I call it my stairway to grace.
The ocean is placid, even boring some days—which is not to say unappealing. She can be cold and hostile to the point of turning me away. She can be gentle and soothing, or lull me into a sleepy lassitude. With little or no warning, she can whip up a frenzy of surging pounding energy, both electrifying and terrifying. She is buoyant and she is as destructive as hell. She neither takes responsibility for her behavior nor does she blame anyone else.
Her mercurial temperament feels familiar.
The ocean is teaching me a new dynamic. In the beginning I was reactive. If she was sunny I was happy. If she had a cloud hanging over her head I was disappointed. Some days the way she showed up irritated me and I walked away.
It took me a long time to appreciate how the ocean shows up is not all about me. It’s not about making my walk less than glorious some days, not about spoiling the Ohio family’s one-week-a-year vacation or behaving beautifully for the honeymoon couple from Newark (although of course they thought it was).
The ocean is my teacher. She harbors no mean spiritedness or bitchy intention towards me or anyone else. On the surface her moods are capricious and unreliable. I can let them knock me off balance. But the daily changes in the surf, the temperature, the play of light and wind or even the effects of storm surges and hurricanes don’t define her essence. In her depths, fathoms beneath what I observe, her essence is immutable and timeless.
The ocean teaches me to look beneath the surface to the essence of my friends and family. When I can do this the people in my life become unique and separate from me. I am able to create space—room—around their behaviors and stop taking things so personally. I can be less emotionally reactive.
She teaches me that acceptance and expansiveness are two sides of the same coin. She challenges me to let go and live big. I love the ocean.
