thePlace

I love the roaring Pacific Ocean, the smell of the open ocean, a medley of concentrated salt and wild wind, the determined snowy plovers with their robotic little legs chasing the waves frenzily, the gulls hovering like 2-leged winged helicopters…. The sight of the rolling high waves pounding the shore calms me infinitely, there is an intimacy that tugs me gently towards it - thoughts unthink, time stops, everything is just the way it should be.

I think of a smaller ocean, the Java/Bali Sea – except for a raging storm in the middle of monsoon, there are no pounding waves, only lapping whispering waves, a steady susurration. A small ocean I can’t get intimate with unless I am in it, a part of it – diving deep under pretending to be a sea creature in its womb. It is while partaking in the mystery down under, that a small ocean gives me another kind of intimacy that brings bliss.

This evening I walked passed a carcass of a dead sea lion or seal. No longer recognizable, head melted into the skin, maggot swarming – slowing devouring the brain. It was captivating. I thought of a human body.

The sun has moved across the sky casting the sky orange, sprinkles glittering silver on the unknowable surging swells. As it sinks slowly down the horizon, the lights drag out a singular golden dancing column traversing the darkening ocean. Another gleaming setting sun reflected and sparkles on the wet black silvery sand, tousled foam white and gray at the shore. The air grows colder, more damp. Low clouds spread from the horizon and curdled into little lumps spreading in. A few surfers reluctantly moving out of the water leaving the beloved to a next auspicious day.

For a short time, the open-roaring Pacific Ocean is no longer just a Memory 10 months out of 12; it has grown robust and alive – like a fruit in season, every season while I am passing through SF. I seek it out; my eyes are drawn to the foaming and raging Ocean whenever possible. So I walk the beach as often as I can – at times braving the cold howling wind with whipping sands, swirling fog and numbing drizzle. I walk on the soft sand – about 20 feet away, not on harder easier ground next to the foaming zigzagging line brought by the uninterrupted advancing and receding waves.

Soft sand feels good under the feet, a workout; and with this Beach, it is just the right distance to have a larger view of the Ocean.

The right distance for the heart to zoom with the thundering waves.

The right distance to take in the energy and return it undigested.

It must be this roaring Ocean with the foggy city that make people leave their hearts in SF. Imagine SF without the Open Ocean, no heart stays behind - a sacrilege indeed!