Ocean Watching
At two o’clock in the afternoon,
the clouds were billowing above Chiloe.
We found a marvelous beach. The sands were wide, the waves were caressing the beach; and in the distance, the waves were coming up upon the rocks, lavishing them with spray.
The sun was trying to make a way through the cloud cover and occasionally succeeded. We reached for our cameras, chasing the waves with our lenses, hoping the rain that had splattered the windshield on and off this afternoon would hold off for awhile. The surf was creamy with foam. The wind buffeted our hats and whipped our hair. We realized the tide was coming in. The sky was darkening, and a few minutes later large drops of rain began to fall. We decided this lovely deserted beach would have to wait for another day.
I have been a beach lover since I can remember. We would take our picnic lunch to the beach, shimmy down the cliffs of Half Moon Bay, making a lovely afternoon in the salt air and sunshine. As a child I would look for shells and shiny rocks, build sandcastles, and go wading in the ocean. Time passed, and a beach blanket took the place of sandcastles. I sat and marveled as wave after wave came crashing onto the shore. Wading gave way to barefoot walks along the water’s edge. The ocean endlessly stirred my soul. Time passed again.
My husband and I sat for long stretches, absorbing the warm sun and gazing at the glorious ocean.
We added cameras so we could capture the waves, find the light on the surf. We photographed the sea birds in the air, in the water, combing the beach for bits of food. Our voices trailed off in the wind, and in their place was a deeper quiet: the vastness encompassed our every breath.
It shouldn’t surprise us, and yet it does, that the ocean puts us into a meditative state. But the ocean does so – what with the blinding light, the roaring of the wind, the thundering of the surf:
just what some of the masters of old have told us will happen if we meditate deeply.
How does that happen?
The ocean mesmerizes us. The sound of the ocean can drown out barking dogs, children laughing, seagulls calling. The rushing of the wind and the surf effectively create a kind of white noise. The ocean takes us right into eternity.
The beauty of this kind of meditation is that it is eyes-open, a kind of meditation called “contemplation”. It is the contemplation of the natural world that binds us to this world. It anchors us here. It reminds us of God in heaven while keeping our feet firmly on the ground. When I go to the ocean, I feel the sand with my feet, its graininess, its warmth, its dryness or wetness. I smell the air, so full of salt and the pungent notes of drying seaweed. I watch the waves and feel their rhythm. I hear their pounding or their gentle lapping and the popping of the bubbles of sea foam. The wind blasts me or cools me. I watch the sparkle of light on water and on the sheen upon the sand where the wave has retreated. My senses ground me firmly. The water rushes and recedes. The endless to and fro and utter beauty bring me to peace.
Watching the ocean brings me to peace because it is a touchstone for the endless vastness of eternity. The ocean is one feature of Earth that extends across the globe. Only the winds and the air are bigger. All of the land masses together are smaller than the collective oceans. We can never see the whole of an ocean. From a human perspective, oceans go on forever. They help human beings to move beyond our own little worlds and into the vastness of forever.
Watching the oceans also brings joy – the joy of waves crashing on the beach, on the rocks, the water turning to foam as it slides across the sand again and again and again, the foam caressing the shore with lacy patterns that tickle the toes and delight the heart. The joy of the breeze cooling one’s brow, of a fresh wind whipping the waves, of a gale blowing hysterically against the coast, delight the senses and with them, the heart. The joy of the peace that comes from an encounter with the eternal is beyond words.
One day on the beach of Kailua on the island of Oahu the waves were lapping gently on the sand. It was late afternoon, and the clouds were floating in and out of the picture. The air was warm. The occasional faint taste of a delicious picnic lunch still quivered here and there in my mouth. The light was particularly beautiful. I found myself fascinated by the iridescent sheen left by the waves upon the sand. I got out my camera and started photographing. I grew quiet inside, and soon I was humming a song. I was still photographing at sunset! The beauty, the peace, the joy I felt made me free. That internal place of freedom is a soulful one, a place where the constraints of time and space diminish, and the soul is free to dance.
