"And the sea will grant each man new hope". Christopher Columbus
So many years I have wandered the cool misty shores. I walked alone with only the company of sea birds, the splash of water, the kelp and sand and my own thoughts. I saw such beauty and listened to the music of the waves. My moods were shaped by the calm and the storm. Sometimes in bright clear summer sun and sometimes in the wane light of winter under cloudy skys, endlessly beautiful, endlessly refreshing.
Always I felt the energy that only the sea gives. It was not timeless, as change there was constant. Beaches came and went. Cliffs rose steeper each year, then became gentle slopes as a violent storm tore them down in one winter's night. My time is that of a mortal, but the sea goes on. I cannot have the sea, but I can visit the shore. My devotion and patience are rewarded with a vision of beauty, a comfort for the mind.
I love the rough places. The craggy rocks that are the bones of the land, challenging the endless pounding of the water. I love the explosion of the waves as they collide and struggle with the shore. I find the low spots where the seaweeds pile up gold and green under the rocks. I explored the damp dark holes where vibrant life hides from the drying breeze and sun until the water comes back. The air is filled with tangy smells of vital life and foamy salt water. The dawn fog quiets all sound. I love the serenity of these lonely places. My eyes swam in the tidepools that show a magical, delicate world of beauty and mystery.
Sometimes the sun has warmed me, but the ocean runs cool. I like when the morning fog hides the light and makes everything still and silent and white. The shadow in the mist could have been anyone. The afternoon clears to show vistas of far shores just begging to be explored.
So many times I have stood to watch the sun set in blazing colors of red and gold. The silence is broken by the cry of the gull on the breeze, seeking its home. Sometimes the night of the shore is so dark that the stars look like jewels that you could reach and touch. Sometimes the moon makes a golden path upon which you might reach your dreams if you follow it long enough.
I go to the sea when it storms. My eyes have teared in the blasting winds that tore the top off the wave and churned the sea into white froth. Each chill blast makes you glad the waves cannot reach you. With each breath, you feel the crisp, cold air fill you. Still you face the sea storm, drawn to it and feel the energy as wave after wave blasts the shore before the first can wash back. The chill reaches through any coat, but even the sea is not enough to cool my heart. The blast of waves make me forget the trials of the day, the grind of life.
Sometimes I walk shores of endless sand, gently caressed by warm breezes. I follow trails like mazes through shore grass and piles of drift wood. Small flotsom and giant trees that tell stories from afar are all heedlessly left by the receding tides. Near the water the sand is shaped to a perfect sheet with a sheen that is the polish of water mirroring the sea and sky back at me. There, small shells and drift tell stories of the life in the sea's deeper reaches, of mysteries unseen from shore. There is a secret heart, unrevealed, never conquored.
I sit upon a rocky cliff high above the water and rocks. Behind me are the grasses and wild flowers covering the headlands. A trio of white gulls motionlessly ride on the wind in front of me over the void. Below are the tough succulents clinging to the harsh rocks. Yellow flowers fall down like a lady's hair. Far out on the reef each wave splashes as it leaves the endless open sea and swirls through the weed filled channels. Gold and red seaweeds blanket the rocks. Orange and green seastars are spots of bright color. Thick groves of Sea Palms are covered by the splash where the waves break. Sea Lions sleep or bark upon rocky bowers. Pelicans gracefully fly in formation just above the swell. Like many things of the sea. It is hard to say where they come from or where they will go or why. The shore sweeps away far past where I can see. In the distance through the haze a black spot shows the rise of a distant point. The movement and beauty of the endless view fills my mind and I forget as I drift in the Sea Dream.
She has so many moods and such great depth. Her beauty is of form and spirit, always an inspiration, always a longing. It is always comforting when one is with her. Always lonely without. It was OK to wander with my thoughts, because I wasn't really alone. The sea is always with me. I have walked endless shores with her and will walk many more.
Of all the beaches, and there were many, this is the one that begged to be walked the most, for it is endless. There are far more to visit...
Dream ... Dream a Sea Dream with me...