Sunsets and Sandy Beaches

I've been feeling a little stir crazy lately. Six months of telework and social distance will do that to you. It can put a strain on your social and mental well-being and amplify your own worries and insecurities. It's times like this that I find myself drawn back out into nature. I'm extremely lucky to live in an area with abundant and accessible natural beauty within easy reach in virtually all directions.

A few days ago, after some hard conversations with people close to me, I was feeling sort of listless. Its hard when people in your life transition in their significance and closeness. I rarely find myself ever fully disconnected from someone, but once trust is broken it can be hard to ever "get back" to where you were. I get especially down on myself at times like these. MY mind is full of these strong somewhat idealized notions of emotional parity between me and the people I care about. I set myself up for disappointment in the long run though, as most relationships are asymmetric to at least some degree.

Sometimes only the primal forces of nature can truly give you the visual vocabulary to put your thoughts into context. So that's what I sought out. Even though it was already late in the afternoon, I grabbed a bottle of water, set a playlist of my go-to melancholy tunes, hoped in the car, and just headed west.

An hour and a half later I found myself in Ocean Shores, WA. I'm not normally a beach guy, mountains and lakes are more my thing, but I found the sound of crashing waves and the salty air oddly invigorating. I parked on the beach, slipped on some sandals, and just started walking along the water.

Its surprising just how easily the mind can enter a sort of trance state walking along the rhythmic motions of ocean surf. I found myself lulled as much by the by the big crashing waves as I did the tiniest ripples in the sand. Soon I found myself over a mile away from where I parked and unable to even make out my car in the distance. When you've been spending a lot of time indoors sometimes it's easy to forget just how big the world is and how little you are. It's both humbling and comforting. No matter how big your problems might feel, the world is so much bigger.

I headed back to my car, intent on catching one of the last ocean sunsets of the summer.

“Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.”

-Rabindranath Tagore

In my mind, I had imagined watching a picturesque sunset painting the sky in a near endless gamot of warm colors as the disc of the sun slowly dipped below the horizon. I believed so strongly that this was what I was going to see, and needed to see, that I found myself profoundly disappointed when clouds came blowing in just a few minutes before sunset.

As I stood there, face to the obscured setting sunset, I closed my eyes and just focused on my breathing. I found myself confronting my disappointment with the sunset as a metaphor for the disappointment I had been feeling lately in my relationships. Sometimes, I'm so focused on what things should be, that I lose track of the wonderful things that simply are. Not everything can be endlessly profound and significant.

Sometime later, I felt a profound stillness wash over me and opened my eyes. In that moment that cloudy sunset was so beautiful. While it was not the deep reds and oranges I was expecting, the sunset was no less extraordinary. Sometimes you just have to appreciate things for what they are and for as long as they last. It might not be what you expected, but the experience is no less worth it.

I drove myself home as the remains of daylight rapidly dwindled away and slept more soundly than I had it weeks. I woke up the next day resolved to take some more time to focus on me, and hopefully use up some vacation time soon.