I absolutely love the ocean. In my time on the planet, I have lived near it 2 times. 3 if you count my first 4 years of life in Los Angeles. The first time in my memory was the 20 years I spent living on the San Francisco Peninsula. The trip to the ocean was easy, only up and over the coastal mountains into Half Moon Bay. Maybe 25 miles or so. In the twenty years I spent here, I may have gone over to the coast 40 times total. Of those 40 or so trips, 15 to 20 of them were only to buy drugs, so You can imagine how much of that time was spent with my feet in the sand.
Today, I try to walk in the sand every day, on one of 4 beaches within a mile of me here in Southern Oregon. I go to the beach to connect with the wonder of nature. I go there in search of God’s music. I find it on the forest path walking from the parking lot and on the dunes with the wind and the sound of those wonderful waves. Watching the waves is my favorite thing to do on the beach. Like fingerprints, no 2 are alike. people say they come in sets. Sets of 7. I have heard that many times. Excuse me while I call bullshit. When I count seven waves that reach the shore, the seventh one is indistinguishable from the sixth one or the eighth one either. I mean they are as different as fingerprints because, really, being indistinguishable to me, they all start to look the same after watching them for some time.
The interesting thing I notice is that as the waves come in and recede, there is a phenomenon that fascinates me. Just when I think a wave has a chance of making a grand entrance or impact on its arrival , it’ll be undercut by an earlier arrival that is on its way back out to sea. That fucker invariably steals the thunder of the new arrival, making it indistinguishable from any of the other waves that come and go. I think there’s a metaphor for life in there somewhere.
I’m that wave riding the wind and the tide coming ashore to make my grand entrance, to put on the show of shows. Greg is arriving. Get your cameras ready folks! Photo op here!
Then, that preceding wave of life, the one that came in before me with its own grand entrance dutifully adheres to the laws of nature and heads back out to sea, undercutting my entrance, stealing my thunder, relegating me to be one of the many countless waves doing my best, trying to come ashore and spread my love on the beach.
Nothing to see here folks, no camera necessary. Just another of the multitude of waves living and dying in a flash of energy on the shore. Beaten by one of my own. And life goes on. There’s always another wave, another tide, another beach, another day, another night.
Then again, if I think about it, maybe I’m not the wave in this metaphor for life at all. Maybe I’m the grain of sand that gets to greet every wave both coming and going, eroding with the motion of those damn waves, getting smaller and smaller with the passage of time, rubbing elbows with all those other grains of sand until I am nothing.
Ain’t life grand?
Love is God. God is Love.
Love to You.
All of You.