The beach and the wilderness

Once upon a time I lived right across the street from the beach.

Day in and day out, life was so busy. Work, school, meetings and a whole host of activities that helped me learn and trust this all new way of life without drugs and alcohol. I rarely made it to the beach.

But one thing I did do is sit on my front porch every single morning. My routine was set - sip coffee, have a cigarette, read a meditation, and contemplate. The first three things I did in an almost robotic fashion. Yet I contemplated a lot.

Back then I wasn't so sure about this Higher Power thing. I struggled to conceded to the idea that a Higher Power existed...and what little concession I made left room for a belief that this Higher Power was not on my team.

Yet morning after morning, I sat and looked out at the vastness of the ocean. I pondered the idea that people once though the Earth was flat. Each day I contemplated this idea, and each day my heart moved closer to the understanding that so much of the mystery of the world is held in what is unseen.

Each day I looked at the vastness, and knew it curved on to something more beyond the horizon.

It was in those moments I rediscovered a sense of curiosity, of wonder, of surrender to the concept of....faith.

The beach and the ocean reconnected me to my humanity. Further, to my spirit.

I can still feel that sense of wonder when I look out over water. There is something magical for me in the marsh, the smell of pluff mud, the feel of sand between my toes. The thrill of finding a beautiful shell, or watching little crabs scatter across the sand. In 2018, I spent three days in silence at the beach. I contemplated that same stretch of ocean. I found peace with a decision that needed to be made, and was reminded of my humanity.

Although the beach is a place that reconnected me to that part of me, I also recognize I can hide there. There is so much noise, so much movement, so much that can overwhelm the senses and distract us, even if no other people sit within eye site. The wind, the birds, the whipping of palm branches, sand pelting your legs. The sense of melancholy that naturally settles on me when I smell the salty air, for so many tumultuous memories it conjures from my limbic memory.

The truth is the beach has always been an escape. It brings up a tempest in me and forces me to reconcile things about myself that need to be reconciled. It has a level of discord and disharmony to it. And it does not bring me peace.

Having spent a lot of intentional time in the past year in the wilderness - the mountains, the canyonlands, the woods - I recognized that this held some larger representation for me.

I no longer feel drawn to the coast, to the ocean. I feel pulled to the mountains, to the wilderness, in such a strong way it feels like coming home when I am there. My husband has the same experience. So do my kids.

We love the adventure. The quiet wonder. How we can set off on a hike and an adventure unfolds. We get curious. We get reflective. We get quiet. We get connected - to ourselves, to each other, and to the world.

The reality for me is that I met my Higher Power at the ocean. I connect with the Holy Spirit in nature.

The ocean showed me that I cannot possibly see and understand the vastness of the world, and that there is so much happening that I will never understand. The ocean was my surrender place.

Places like the Grand Canyon, the peak of a mountain range, or the thunder of a water fall show me the vastness of the world, and put into perspective my place in it. The wilderness has a rhythm to it, it syncs, and it brings things into view with a sharp clarity. The wildness of nature is my transformation and growth place.

I am no longer pulled to the ocean, for it represents my past.

I am pulled toward the wilderness, for it represents all of my potential.

"And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul.
-John Muir