Keeping an Ocean Mind

      The pedal edges closer and closer to the metal as I finally get my family’s little rented Cobalt onto the open road. Some Kesha song burrows into my subconscious while I fume, filled with confusion and stress over the list of things I need to deal with. And yet, because I’m here in northern California, hundreds of miles away, I can’t. I thought a drive would take my mind off what awaits me at home, but it doesn’t. The trees just flash past on either side in a blur, perfectly reflecting my chaotic spirit. I find the turn back to the freeway in frustration, and pound the radio with my fist. Silence wraps in around me. I glance out the window to find that the crisp blue sky lies huddled under a heavy blanket of clouds, something I hadn’t bothered to notice before. The ocean now looms off to my right, an impending force, yet I discover that I am not perturbed by the lack of sunshine as the car shoots across the blacktop along the edge of the cliff. I learned two weeks before that the notion of warm sunny days on the beach is something strictly associated with Southern California beaches, and does not extend north, especially not past San Francisco. Besides, the clouds make the waters below seem more mysterious, as if there was more danger and excitement lurking beneath their surface.

        As my eyes begin to follow the waves backwards towards the horizon, I catch a glimpse of a thin sliver of sunlight streaking through a hole in the clouds a couple miles out, brilliantly reflected on the water. My pulse quickens as I see a side street and impulsively make the turn. Five minutes later I step from the no longer moving car onto the smooth sand of the small, otherwise empty beach huddled under cover of the looming cliffs. My shoes slip off haphazardly, and I wander the rocks at the base of the bluff, tossing a few out to the ocean before I find myself drawn to where the sand meets the water. The moaning of the ocean greets me as my feet meet the icy chill, and this is where my physical journey stops, shin deep in the cold steel blue that absorbs the gray of the sky as it stretches away from me. “This,” I think, “Now this is the beach”. My mind runs blank in the face of such awe inspiring power. The understanding of the body of water which I have become a part of catches my breath. The wind whips at my hair, pulling it in tangles across my face, into my mouth, behind me, then back into my eyes, but my brain doesn’t have time to register my previous annoyance. I am consumed by tranquility even while my feet sink further under the sand, and the waves roar as they crash into the rocks at the base of the cliffs, forced to return from whence they came.

         The longer I stand there, the more my senses begin to return to me, and yet my thoughts and questions remain consumed by the silence. The wind whispers ideas in my ear; the thudding waves throw in their own opinion, things they have learned through the ages. I find no real answers, only more questions, and yet something has changed. The turmoil in my soul has settled, and I know I can return to the world where commitments stretch me thin when the time comes, refreshed and ready to deal with the constant barrage of voices screaming into my life. I know that in my soul, deep down in my very bones, I need the pounding of the waves to run in sync with the pounding in my head. I need the ocean.

         At the same time, I know it isn’t the ocean that I need. When life gets out of control, and it feels like I’m going down the freeway at one hundred miles an hour, I need to make the time to pull over and turn off the sound of advertisements and to-do lists playing in my head. I need to find that place in my soul that isn’t always so peaceful and search out some sort of harmony in the discord. This is the place I can break down all the walls I’ve built up to protect myself from getting hurt, where I know I am isolated from everything else, alone on the beach. It’s important to break from the hustling busyness of everyday life and feel and then let go of the pain I’ve been burying, letting the waves crash with oppressive power then slowly retreat back to where they came from. While the pain smarts as it hits the rocks, and I stand there and let it come, there is still something so natural about it; the rhythm of it is soothing. Pain was meant to be felt, and once it hits, I can toss the smaller pangs into the water and watch them get sucked back out into the sea. Some of the more deeply rooted aches are rocks sitting at my feet, not able to be pulled away from me completely but worn down as time goes on.

      However, pain is not the only thing that needs to be dealt with. Sometimes the turmoil and disjointedness of life bring me to a place where I need some consistency to hold me together. If I pause long enough to let my feet really sink into the sand, I understand that I am truly rooted into this ocean, becoming a part of it. While I may be by myself, I am never alone in life and its struggles. For all I know, there may be millions of people around the world with their feet dipped into the same body of water as mine, all of us a part of humanity, sharing in the trials and the joys of life. After this realization, all the distractions of the wind shrieking over the cliffs and pulling at my body cannot move me. My ankles are solidly anchored in the sand, and I can turn to other people for advice, learning from the whispers of others who, like the wind, have experienced life.

      All these thoughts whir around in my mind as I walk purposefully back towards my car. The lapping waters fall behind me as I draw closer to the vehicle, the freeway, and eventually everyday life. The ocean cannot travel with me, nor can I stay in that place of peace in my mind and tune out all of the trivial things that keep me on track at school and at work. We need to be concerned with arriving to meetings on time and finishing tasks assigned to us. But every once in a while, everyone needs to be able to take a break from the grind of just thoughtlessly doing, and consider their own mental and physical health. Moments like these can define a new take on self, and even uncover aches and pains that we need to let go of. There are things in our lives that even we don’t want to be there, but we don’t take the time to back up and stop all the noise so that we can hear that still small voice in our head whispering that we are being consumed by things we never meant to allow.

      As I climb back into my car and again feel the gas pedal under my foot, I am not so focused on the fast pace and where I need to go next. For a while the road continues to carry me in view of the ocean. The closeness of it keeps my mind from pulling back towards the texts on my phone or the voice of Katy Perry that will ring out of the radio the moment I turn it back on. Even as the freeway finally turns and pulls me back into civilization, I am comforted by the new knowledge I carry about myself and my connection with those around me. The city is no longer a prison, keeping me from what needs to be done, but a return to society and companionship with those who, like me, are only just beginning to understand that life is meant to reach beyond the chaos to include peace.