Current

I came across this in an old notebook from a year or two ago and in a way, felt like I was reading it for the first time..it seemed somehow still to touch something within my life, to describe with my words, what I can’t seem to find the way to say.


Perhaps the waves I’ve been making are stronger than I perceive, for I find the subsequent waves are often too rough for me to swim in safely; crash around me, stay a while, sweep me up take me away and when I look behind, I’m no longer able to find my way back, to catch my breath. Powerful waves sweep over me, throw me to shore and seemingly pull back to sea without me, swiftly searching for deeper, more familiar waters with no reflection, smoother currents, quiet strength.

I watched the waves in Carmel last week, a break from falling apart. I stared at an empty beach – the rough wind in my face bringing tears to my eyes too stubborn to blink – I stood up against the wind, letting it do to me as it pleased; I watched the waves. A man played with his dog, running on the sand. And in their company, I was alone. Standing on that cliff; I watched the waves. There’s a sparkling in the traces left by the waves every time they pull away from the shore. Each wave hastened back to the sea, as brief as it was certain to caress the shore again, leaving behind the sand that glittered still, subtly, in the sunlight.

Or perhaps it’s all an illusion. From this view I can’t look away from those traces left behind, though the waves have abandoned, the beauty of a fleeting image, so often tragic. Yet beyond image and illusion, beyond beauty and tragedy, the waves faithfully return.

The sudden breaking of waves on a quiet beach – though they are expected – are beautifully deceptive, dangerous and strong, tempting and invigorating, though often much larger than we’d ever considered.

As this wave had swept me away right before my eyes – and I hadn’t seen it coming. A sudden break knocked the wind out of me, the sand no longer glittered, the sunshine escaped my days. When I reach for it the sand slides through my fingers and refuses to let me hold on. And so I stand, as I do not know, to walk away or toward sparkling traces left here, before me, I stand on this cliff.

I watch the surf, those moments when the sunlight shines just right, the rough aggressive beauty in the waves and the gentle caress, the embrace that follows every storm. And as always, I’m lured into believing, that the ocean goes on forever beyond the horizon and much, much further than the eye can see, subtle twinkle, deep reflection, the illusion that it is always coming back.