Monday, August 02, 2004
Sometimes there are moments that are just so serene, I don¹t know whether to let exist solely in my memory or to preserve with the written word. This is one of the moments.
The beach is rather desolate for what you would expect on an early August afternoon; the cool temps and winds having succeeded in turning the place 180 degrees from the beach chair to beach chair stacked norm of the three H’s.
The only thing between myself and the crush of high tide is the occasional beach walker and an elderly gentleman scouring for change with a metal detector. It feels a lot like a post-apocalyptic aura you get after Labor Day. I love it.
There has always been something substantially powerful about being at the edge of the shore as the waves of the ocean form a power struggle between myself and what often feels like the mass of an entire country behind me; the seagulls serving as the messangers between the two forces of nature and time. To have it nearly to myself is humbling and empowering. It provides perspective you don’t get from the daily rat race of life where you’re too often caught up in struggling for your own bereavement where every word and interaction potentially impacts your standing on the corporate ladder. It’s that sense of worry about career growth that has taken years off my life; or several hairs off my head at the very least.
As I sit and write, I start to realize why I often have to choose whether or not I want to write about the moments that inspire me to do just that, write. Because, inevitably, my contemplative writing winds around to me thinking about my job and place in life with all the worries that push my closer to needing some time with Zoloft.
But that is also what is so humbling and empowering to me. These real life worries don’t matter here. The feeling of the waves crashing on my feet combined with the infinite horizon in front of me makes me realize just how minuscule a cog I am in the grand scheme. This ocean could swallow me up in seconds without a care about my latest business plan or strategic thoughts on life. A scary thought, but for some reason, it feels incredible. Ashes to ashes, all fall down, there is nothing like an unexpected mid-summer fall day to make you feel so alive.
The beach is rather desolate for what you would expect on an early August afternoon; the cool temps and winds having succeeded in turning the place 180 degrees from the beach chair to beach chair stacked norm of the three H’s.
The only thing between myself and the crush of high tide is the occasional beach walker and an elderly gentleman scouring for change with a metal detector. It feels a lot like a post-apocalyptic aura you get after Labor Day. I love it.
There has always been something substantially powerful about being at the edge of the shore as the waves of the ocean form a power struggle between myself and what often feels like the mass of an entire country behind me; the seagulls serving as the messangers between the two forces of nature and time. To have it nearly to myself is humbling and empowering. It provides perspective you don’t get from the daily rat race of life where you’re too often caught up in struggling for your own bereavement where every word and interaction potentially impacts your standing on the corporate ladder. It’s that sense of worry about career growth that has taken years off my life; or several hairs off my head at the very least.
As I sit and write, I start to realize why I often have to choose whether or not I want to write about the moments that inspire me to do just that, write. Because, inevitably, my contemplative writing winds around to me thinking about my job and place in life with all the worries that push my closer to needing some time with Zoloft.
But that is also what is so humbling and empowering to me. These real life worries don’t matter here. The feeling of the waves crashing on my feet combined with the infinite horizon in front of me makes me realize just how minuscule a cog I am in the grand scheme. This ocean could swallow me up in seconds without a care about my latest business plan or strategic thoughts on life. A scary thought, but for some reason, it feels incredible. Ashes to ashes, all fall down, there is nothing like an unexpected mid-summer fall day to make you feel so alive.
