Perspective

A walk on the beach changes my perspective.

A walk to the rocks.  Some call it the jetty.  I call it "the rocks".  From where I stand on the beach its probably just about a half mile.  I'll be there in a few minutes.  My focus is on the rocks, wondering whether I'll just look at them when I arrive or climb on them to see what's beyond.

 

The soft waves on my right side.  The houses on my left.  And the people.  The people are in between land and sea.  Some are lying on their towels oblivious to the fact that I have just trespassed on their private space.  As I crisscross between towels, legs and beach chairs, the rocks seem closer although I have walked but a short distance.

 

I notice a father and his young son walking into the ocean.  The little boy is afraid and is being reassured that no harm will come to him.  He slowly takes his father's hand and giggles as the water tickles his toes.  I leave them with memories of my own son's first encounter with the ocean not unlike that of this youngster.

 

I am now faced with a dilemma.  Do I walk in between the children making sandcastles and risk disturbing their artwork, or do I walk in front of the dog who is warning me to stay on my side of the beach?  Suddenly the rocks seem momentarily less important.  I opt for playing tiptoe through the sandcastles amid the look of fear in the eyes of the master sculptor.  As I arrive safely on the other side of the castle, the look of relief is taken as a thank you and I smile and continue my journey.

 

Focusing again on the rocks, I wonder why they hold a special place in my heart.  I see strength in them, I decide, and keep walking.  Just a few more feet and I'll be there.  They seem much bigger than they did when I started my journey.  Don't know if I can climb on them, although standing on them would make me feel powerful and above nature.  They're beautiful and the contrast of the rocks and the ocean takes my breath away.  They are what they are and it's because I can accept them just as they are, I am attracted to them.  I feel protected approaching them.  In any other setting these would be just rocks, but here next to the vast ocean their meaning and appearance change.  They look more beautiful in this setting than anywhere else.

 

I'm here now and suddenly I feel quite alone.  Somewhere in the background are the faint sounds of children squealing and dogs barking, but these sounds don't seem real.  I realize now that the rocks are not all black as I'd first thought.  They're actually different colors--yes, some black, but there's also orange, gray and red.  Some are speckled, some are smooth and some jagged and brown like old wooden steps drenched by a recent rainstorm.  There's even some gray flat ledges inviting me to climb up and take a peek over to the other side of the ocean.  I decline, though, and just soak in the beauty.  One so soft, the other so hard.  One so gentle, the other so tough.  They each stand out in their own special way.  They both hold promise for my ever-changing moods.  I can come here anytime and fit in quite nicely.  An invitation I'll choose to accept again and again.

 

I'm not as eager to walk away.