If you look to the right of the photo, you can see my footprints. I thought I’d walk a bit to meet my maker, but I didn’t find anything or anyone. I’ve been told that the stark and lonely and beautiful parts of nature contain the maker, but I saw nothing. There was just this beach. And the sunshine. And the clouds. I went as far as I could on the sandbar and then came back before the tide came in. I never saw a soul. The tide came in anyway.
|Searching . . .|
But I wasn’t alone. The seagulls were still busy all around me, doing the things that seagulls do. Diving, scrounging, but mainly making a lot of noise. Still, when they glide in the air, they seem like perfect and weightless wisps of life, effortless. I saw a horse off in the distance, and I’m assuming his owner was somewhere nearby, although I never saw anyone. An occasional seal bobbed his head up just for a second. You have to be quick and steady to catch the seals because they don’t stay up long. They go under just as quickly as they came up, back to a hidden world I can’t see.
The receding waves brought in dozens and dozens of sand dollars, and I collected quite a few. Each one is unique. They are so outstandingly beautiful. And, of course, there were also countless beautiful shells. Some were opalescent and shiny, shimmering in the cold sunshine. Some had the secret spirals carved upon them, as I’ve mentioned in previous journal entries--the mysterious golden ratio. And the sand glimmered in the sun, almost hurting my eyes, reminding me of diamonds when they hit the light in just that certain way.
The air was so fresh, but it always is at the beach. It had that calming quality to it, the one where your thoughts just sort of work themselves out and then go away completely. There was the sound of the waves starting to come back. They were in the background, behind the fresh scent. It was a continuous and perfect rhythm, and each wave grew the slightest bit louder than the one before it. In another few hours they’ll reach an apex and then fade again, perfectly, as always.
The afternoon slowly ticked by. I stopped thinking as much after having some of that fresh and vibrant air. My thoughts seemed stale in comparison anyhow. It was enough just to walk and be. Eventually, I forgot why I came to the beach altogether, although I was glad I’d come. I found my way back to my car and went back home. I looked in the rearview mirror as I left. It reminded me to return so that I could search for something I left there, but I couldn’t remember what it was. I’ll go back again soon, though, and look for it just the same.