stand in the wind

I have never been an adrenaline junkie. I take no pleasure in taking risks, but for some reason I cannot resist the sea when it's inflamed. The wind picks up and starts to roar and I have to go and hear the water roar back. Today the wind was up. I grabbed my Gortex and headed to the beach.

At the shoreline everything was in motion -- the water and the wood and the grasses and the trees. Only the gulls trying to fly into the wind were still, suspended in their animation. I love standing there surrounded by the wind, feeling small. I think it's good for us to feel small for time to time. It helps to remember that so many things are not under my control, so much is beyond my grasp. It reminds me not to try so hard to hang on to it.

Going down to the ocean in a storm always feels like going to church. The awesomeness of God is inescapable there. It's in front of you and behind you, in your ears, in your face, pulling tears from the corners of your eyes. Huge drifting tree logs are no match for it, this huge expanse of open water cannot resist it. I know that most people look for quiet to meditate in, but I find myself meditating in the rush and the noise and the motion of the storm.

One of the many things I love about White Rock is that every time I go to stand in the wind there are others already there. People come alone, they bring their children. Up and down the beach you can see them, brightly coloured coats bobbing right along with the drift wood. When the storm is really good every one has a camera. And you can see as you walk by, every one of us is smiling.