What This Place Means to Me
On three occasions, I have made a small pilgrimage to Shi Shi Beach in the remote northwest corner of Washington state. Over the last ten years, it has grown into one of my favorite places in the state. Its sheer beauty alone is enough to steal my heart, but it is the experiences tied to this place that mean much more to me.
On my first visit, my roommate and I desperately needed an escape from the city. Armed with cameras and the hope we might capture a gorgeous sunset, we headed west. For hours, we snaked our way around the peninsula. Parked, we slogged through a muddy trail. Then we stepped out onto the beach as the sun began meeting the ocean. With ferocity, shutters opened and closed. We did not have time for creative angles. Time solely focused us on capturing the indescribable beauty before us. Distracted, we lost track of time. As the sunlight retreated, we bolted back to my car. Thick mud and a pitch-black forest made for a trail that was twice as complicated. Covered in mud, we triumphantly arrived back at my car.
On my second visit, the Supreme Court granted marriage equality to gay and lesbian couples nationwide. Sitting in a coffee shop in Pioneer Square in downtown Seattle, I penned a heartfelt essay, outing myself to the world. With as much bravery as I could muster, I posted the essay on my website. As the world reacted, a friend of mine and I headed for Shi Shi Beach. Without cell phone reception, I had no way of knowing how the world was reacting to my news. As the two of us sat near a campfire, I decided I did not care. My truth was out there. For a while, that sandy beach was a sanctuary. Driving home the next day, my phone sang with chirps and buzzes. Almost all of them notifications displaying some level of support.
This third visit was no less special. Once again, I needed a retreat from the cacophony that defines a city. And once again, I looked west. With summer beginning a tug-of-war with fall, Shi Shi again provided sanctuary.
Even Rocks Don’t Last Forever
From the beach, your eyes grow fixated on the haystack rocks rising from the water and filling the southern part of the horizon. If you are anything like me, you wonder about the lives and stories those rocks hold. Your mind can get lost in wonder. No matter what direction you head, you arrive at the realization these rocks will not last forever. Eventually, time will win this battle and it will claim another victory. There is a metaphor for our own lives in there somewhere.
Watching the Sun Set Over the Pacific
No offense to those who find grace and beauty in watching the sun rise over the Atlantic Ocean. For me, there is very little in this world that compares to the magic I feel watching the sun set over the Pacific. The sheer beauty of the vastness before me always leaves me feeling both lucky and insignificant. I cannot speak for you, but holding those two thoughts in my head at the same time feels both powerful and dangerous. Personally, I relish that feeling. It is like a drug, and it keeps me firmly planted on the west coast.
Counting Stars
Then the sun loses another battle, and the heavens explode with a thousand points of light. Occupying one of those rare spaces in the world where light pollution does not spoil the night, I count stars. From there, my mind chases the expanse of the Milky Way. There I begin a conversation about the solar system, galaxies, universes, and who might be staring back at me, wondering the same thing. This feeling of vastness and insignificance trumps the Pacific Ocean, but just barely.
Sleeping Outside
With the weight of the expanse of space on my mind, I nestle into my sleeping bag. My inability to sleep comfortably outside has spoiled these outings in the past. As badly as I want to sleep, my mind and the surrounding environment make it damn near impossible. On this night, I drift off to sleep easily, but wake and fall back to sleep throughout the night. At first, it was frustrating, but then I accepted it. The day was too special to be spoiled by something so trivial.
Be good to each other,
Nathan
