The ocean crashes on the shore like thunder on a rainy night. I haven't been to the beach since last summer, but my love for it has never changed. The warm water tingles my toes as I push my digits into the saturated sand. The moon's gravity forces the tide in as it circulates my legs. The breaking waves rush past me in a hurry with nowhere to go.
The surf's bubbles create a layer of frost on top of the combers and ride the surge like a layer of foam you'd find on top of your favorite latte. The sun beats down on you, adding the proper amount of heat from above and coolness from the aqua down below. The wind pulls the salt out of the drink and produces the unforgettable ocean air aroma.
Standing in the surf, I gaze at the deep blue sea and watch the world turn flat as it touches the horizon. I glance up into the sky, and I see nirvana. Hoping my loved one is looking back at me, I close my eyes and pray as it floats into wonderland. The continuous roar of the ocean grabs my attention. I open my eyes and get lost in its vast shoreline. I realize life starts along the strand while observing my boys playing in the ocean waves. I don't need to pray. My prayers have been answered in the joy my children are having.
There is paradise here among the subsist. People are having fun as they enjoy the simple things in life. A cold beer, a quick snack, or good times with the ones they love. The beach offers a relaxing feeling in an otherwise hectic week.
My kids sit in the shallow surf as it rolls over their bodies. I find my relaxation in the comfort of their pleasure as they find mutual gratification in the aquatic bliss. I focus on myself but can't help but find I get lost in the exultation they have with every splash. As the salty water covers their little bodies like their favorite blanket I place over them to sleep, the force pushes them back as they put their hands behind them to fight against the surging water. Only lose as it topples them head over heels. I turn to pick them up, but they laugh, causing me to hesitate. Their smiles are as wide as the mouth of the ocean's inlet, and they quickly regain their composure and set themselves back up to take on the mighty sea again. I can only laugh and learn lessons from their tenacity as they continue their mighty fight against the odds.
I look back in the briny deep and hope this beautiful day will continue and bring a better tomorrow. The seven seas speak to me with each retraction of the waves after it touches the shore. The roar of the ocean demands that I take heed that there are greater things out there for me and that my life is as fragile as my kids on its crest. It tells me that my life can erode away like the sand I am standing on as it continues to pound relentlessly on the shore. Like a crashing wave engulfing the land, life can consume you. It can wash away the good and the bad. I can get pulled into its riptide and become lost in Davy Jones' Locker, float on top, and sail away into the sunset.
I sit in the sand and pick up seashells that have made their way onto the banks, where they rest among other shells pushed along as they languish on the sea bed. I examine it and think of the stories it could tell about what it's seen. Its perseverance paid off until it got ashore. That's why people collect them. The thinking that something so beautiful could survive such a deep, dark unknown. The ocean's depths, from where they derived, are black as night until they reach the shallow ends of the clear water, giving them hope that they will soon be at rest. Basking in the sunlight in their achievement once they have made it. Until it's ready to give itself back to the sea.
I survey the ocean and observe all the life it holds from the bottom to the top. All walks of life, enjoying everything she has to offer. If there is nothing that you can find that will satisfy your own life by the visual presence of the large body of water before you, then you just aren't trying hard enough. And if that's the case, then you just aren't living. You just lost at sea.
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