Rain on the Ocean

This weekend I took a retreat to the coast, accompanied by my tarot deck and journals. Saturday I woke before sunrise, and waited impatiently for it to be light enough to go down to the beach. But in my impatience, I’d forgotten high tide was in the morning, and there was hardly a beach to step on.

stormy coast 1

I settled for taking a few pictures of the ocean through the branches of the bushes that cling to the side of the bluff overlooking the beach.

stormy coast 2

Later, the weather was stormy. But there was no way I was going to the ocean without spending some time on the beach. So I bundled up, stepped into my rubber boots, and trudged out into the rain.

stormy coast 6

It wasn’t just a little rain, either. It was a drenching, soaking, pelting rain, a sideways rain. It was a rain that made shallow streams on the asphalt, streams that flowed downhill toward the ocean. All the runoff from the rain gathered at the base of the bluffs, and crept down the sand, so there were smaller, shallower waves flowing out to meet the big waves rolling in. There were moments I almost felt I could get lost between the converging waves, like I might forget which direction was ocean and which was not-so-dry land.

stormy coast 5

But I was happy. I was caught up in the powers of water and air and beauty. In the wild weather, the ocean was alternately foam white, glass green, and dull brownish gray. It was an hour of pure communion with the spirit of the ocean. And it was perfect.

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