So this is Pacific Beach on the Washington coast. We went a few days ago. It was a perfect August day with clear skies, warm temperatures and a breeze coming in off the ocean. The place was packed! You could hardly find a spot to call your own. We walked up and down the beach for hours just looking for a tiny patch of sand to call our own where we could spread our beach towels. The sweaty hordes of ... Wait, wait a minute. No, that's not right. There was no one on the beach. We did walk for hours but there was only surf and sand. No sweaty hordes, no lawn chairs or bloated floaty toys. No car stereos or boom boxes battling it out in an auditory war. Nope. There was just the steady sound of crashing waves mixing with the call of sea birds and two silly dogs playing in the surf. Nothing but sand and surf beneath my feet as I walked along with some good looking beach bum on my arm.
The ocean did for me what it did to these cliffs. Carving away the rough edges and revealing something layered and beautiful. I dug my toes into the warm sand and remembered what it feels like to be only in the moment of now. To just lay there in that soft sand with the sun on my skin as the waves came crashing in and just believe. Truly believe and know that nothing that ever happened was as perfect and complete as it was right now.
For me the beach is somewhere I go to find home. It is the one place on earth where I feel my actual human size and my actual human potential. Where I understand in my core that the universe is bigger than me and that I have a place in it. I mean really, look at this picture. How could I take myself seriously when standing next to that? ... and no that isn't actually me standing there. I am much more elusive than that.