last saturday we packed up our car, and headed out to the coast to escape the heat of the city. after two hours on freeways and winding roads we arrived at our beach. i carried three cameras, 2 books, my notebook, and a knitting project to our temporary fort on the sand. i had plans to be oh so productive on such a beautiful beach.
but i quickly settled down after taking only a handful of photographs and writing only a few lines in my little notebook-- i had no inclination to do much of anything but watch the water. i watched wave after wave come crashing to the shore. some waves were bigger and more dramatic than the little waves that barely come lapping up to the shore. i noticed how the waves just kept coming. they just kept crashing.
waves are somehow simultaneously calming and powerful. the sound of consistent beating upon the shore rests our minds and bodies. awe overcomes us as magnificent waves explode upon rocky monoliths.
and then i thought about how often, and somewhat consistently, i seem to crash. how is it that my crashing doesn't seem as powerful or as awe-inspiring as the ocean waves? i asked this question, and have since been changing how i view my own crashes, no matter how small they are or how prolific they are.
could my falling be just as beautiful? absolutely. could i cease to feel that crashing is awkward and embarrassing? yes indeed. could i embrace my crashing as much as i embraced each and every wave on that saturday afternoon? happily.
my mind has been filled with thoughts of letting go and releasing expectations; letting myself fall when i must fall; how powerful my "failures" can truly be.
our beach has gone through so much change over the past few months. when we visited our beach in may it was void of much of its sand, revealing a rocky shore without any even ground for picnicking. upon our return visit on saturday the rocks were once again covered up with one huge sandy beach, perfect for setting up blankets, towels, and umbrellas. i realized what a huge feat it was for the ocean to first, remove all that sand to reveal its rocky base, and second, to restore literally tons and tons of sand back to the beach. all of this done by the crashing of the waves. what great change is brought by crashing!
i am ready to crash more willingly, whether it is gracefully or terribly. this i believe.
11 comments:
I needed these images this morning. Thank you.
There is seriously nothing as amazing and soothing as sitting on the beach and watching the waves. You've made me want to leave work right this very second and do just that. so calming . . .
mmm...very lovely thoughts...
I love how adverturous you guys always are! It's sad that I live in the exact city yet have not gone to half the places you have. Beautiful photos and now I want to go there also.
Beautiful thoughts and images. I like the way you think...
oh, that's beautiful... i feel like i'm on the shore too.
beautiful. beautiful. beautiful. i read every word ann marie over and over again.
I love this idea of being ready to crash more willingly. Now that's a way to live that I admire! I live near the ocean, and I so get that draw into watching the waves for hours. I do the same thing every chance I get.
Thanks for visiting my blog the other day. I was, indeed, lucky enough to teach children's literature and fairy tales (as well as creative writing) to college students for years. I left teaching college this year to focus on my writing full-time, and I am writing children's stories, among other things. I feel blessed every single day that I get to do this work.
Your photos are treasures. Truly beautiful.
SO glad you stopped by milkmoon, and thanks so much for your sweet comments. I LOVE your photos, and you now have a new follower!
C x
ann marie, this blog is so beautiful. what a great way to start my morning when it's so dreary outside. (where i am, anyway.) you have a new follower.
Thanks for passing by and leaving a positive comment; love these photos and love your words; a plus, Linda ...
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