The cool gentle breeze played across my shoulders, sweeping down my exposed neck and hugging my trembling body, raising every tiny hair in response to the welcoming call of the ocean. It wasn’t a warm jacket type of cool, but more a simple cozy sweater to cut the chill cool; a cool that came and went with the rhythm of the waves and the rise of the moon. Thankfully I found an old cotton shirt in the backseat – my weathered old plaid that I must have forgotten to take in last time. This added a layer of protection to my upper body even though everything in me said to roll up the sleeves and leave it unbuttoned. As I sat huddled high on the rocks oblivious to the cares of the world, a simple spectator enjoying the dance of nature, the tiny gusts blew through my worn shirt leaving a saline film on my skin. My bare legs, brown from years of working in the sun, responded to the stinging salty spray.
In the quiet of the evening darkness the only sound was the ebb and flow of the thunderous ocean as its gentle waves became powerful cymbals clashing against the rocks. These weren’t just any rocks. These rocks told the story of hundreds, maybe thousands, of years of relationship with the ocean. Jagged edges and smooth boulders coexist in the moonlit rays where ebony and slate grey compose the natural wall that separates the thrashing water from man’s architectural wonders behind me. This mountainous wall of granite pieces invites the smooth expanse on the horizon to meet it; to engage in a play of power, a contest of stamina. The response is incredible as the simple roll of water becomes a mighty wall in its own right and in a deafening crescendo claps its arms around the rocks below me, bursting into trillions of water pieces which fall away and subside back to the horizon from which they began. In a fleeting instant my ears experience the most beautiful symphony; greater than anything Mozart of Bach ever penned. Nature alone is the artist here; bold, brilliant, and breathtaking.

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Darkness surrounds me. It is a serene darkness. Like a silk glove it wraps gently from the heavens to the earth, enveloping everything within its reach. Its tranquility, not broken, but emboldened by the silver rays emanating from the moon, is a powerful reminder of the forces that at any moment could pull me from my perch and throw me like a rag doll into the depths below. I am but a spec in this glorious expanse and ever mindful of my role as guardian and protector of this beauty. The brilliant light painting a wide swath across the calm water on the horizon, spreading eagerly into the white mass that thunders below me, fills me with longing; longing for calm in the storms of life.

The hours roll by and yet in the deafening silence, the swell of the ocean, it seems but mere minutes. My leather sandals, well-worn and comfortable, slosh under my feet as the salt and sand play their tricks against the rocks and find a place to hide between my now shriveled, naked toes. The goose bumps on my legs that once came and went with the breeze now seem permanent, like little blobs attached to my skin. While the cool gentle wind continues to play around me, the horizon rolls in and makes its play, bringing creatures from the deep and laying them like artwork on the glistening sand. Everything here is a masterpiece; a canvas that delights all the senses, beckoning closeness to the maker. To sit on this granite wall high above the watery mass, yet within reach of its many tentacles, is to be one with all that surrounds me.