I went out to the beach a couple days ago. This should seem like a no brainer, since I live right across the street from the beach. But I don’t go as frequently as I used to.
Why? Well, because it’s always there, quite frankly. There seems to be no hurry. It’s not like it’s the King Tut exhibit (which I have never seen) or the Titanic exhibit (which I have seen). These natural wonders aren’t going anywhere soon, any more than Mt. Rainier is suddenly going to disappear from view in Seattle (except on cloudy days). That would explain why I was 26 before I ever made it to the mountain, and I still haven’t been to see St. Helens.
Regardless, it was suggested by a friend of mine that I leave this hole of an office and perhaps see what air that wasn’t conditioned was like. So I grabbed a little drink and headed out to the beach which lies just beyond A1a.
It is off this very shore that a thousand people perished one night in 1715. A hurricane had slammed into their 15 treasure laden ships and sent them into the reef. Treasure still washes ashore here, especially with the passing of a storm.
Since treasure does wash ashore, it seemed appropriate that a pirate of 30 years would take a little rum with him to toast those who still haunt this beach. So, there I was, at the beach, taking obligatory photos to cause at least some measure of jealousy to those who aren’t by the beach and before I knew it, I was knee deep in the water, frolicking around.
It was then that the whole thing dawned on me. How we are so much like the beach I was now at. While I could blame it on the rum, there were only about three swigs in the bottle. It wasn’t enough to cause me to wax philosophic about why a Pacific Ocean boy ended up on the Atlantic side of the continent.
Instead, I thought about the beach before me and underneath my feet.
As you know, beaches are replenished and nourished by the sea. They are built by the sand that is washed ashore. The ocean giveth and taketh constantly, rebuilding the beach and changing it continually.
Our lives are very similar. Every day waves come ashore in our lives. They are the events we experience. Some are just little ripples, others come at us with reckless abandon, only to peter out unexpectedly before they reach the beach. Still others build up slowly and methodically, hitting the beach with such a force that it knocks us down. The waves never stop coming in at the beach, just like events never stop affecting our lives.
In my own life, I have faced tsunamis. I prepared for them, but they never reached shore. Other times, I have been hit by a rogue wave that knocked me flat and tried to swallow me up. Eventually, like all waves, it receded, leaving me to pick myself up and start all over again.
Most waves in our life aren’t big. They simply come to shore, leaving a lot of new sand on the beach. Some of the sand stays, other grains head back out to sea, waiting their time to join the others and build up the beach some more.
I liken those grains of sands to the moments of our lives. It can be the milliseconds, the minutes, the hours… no matter. Each moment in time builds upon the ones that came before it, and taken together, they build our life, our beach, one grain of sand at a time. And yes, if you must, insert the Days of Our Lives opening monologue here: Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives.
I think they got that wrong by the way. That makes it sounds as if time eventually runs out somewhere. It doesn’t. It just marches on, with or without us being here.
Now, I know that many of us think our respective beaches are a bit ugly. That over time they have become littered with the refuse of the events that have taken place, from broken hearts and bad marriages to the loss of a loved one.
Unfortunately, we can’t get a new beach. Even if we start all over, the sands of time that are our past are still there. We can’t start over. But we can clean the beach up a bit. We can put new sand over the old dirty layers that we’d rather not visit every day. We can engage in a personal beach reclamation project so that we like the beach more. It’s really our only choice, since it’s the only beach we have.
My own beach has some pretty sucky sand that has built up with time. I guess I just wasn’t paying attention sometimes. One day it was just not a pleasant place to be. Now, I could have simply enjoyed what I had, even though it was overcrowded, strewn with broken glass and had “no swimming” signs posted everywhere. Or I could get off my ass and clean the beach. The choice was obvious, and I’ve done a lot of reclamation in my time.
If the beach isn’t calling you these days, if you’re not relishing the sands of time between your toes, perhaps you just need to clean your damned stretch of beach. While it’s true you can’t remove the sand that’s built up over the years, there’s no rule that says you can’t rearrange it to your liking. Who knows, you may even be able to build a little sandcastle over to one side to house all your dreams that can still come true.
Beaches are meant to be enjoyed. Go have fun with your beach today and don’t let anyone litter on it again.
Out on the Treasure Coast, ever thankful that I have friends who still make me visit the beach,
– Robb