Stillness in a place of constant movement

     Recently, I was walking along the beach, something I had not done for years, and something that I had never done in the winter. In the past I had never considered myself a fan of the beach, I had always adored the ocean, but the beach? It's hot, crowded, loud, and you're bound to get a sunburn. But in the winter? It was magic. The beach was empty, there was a cold wind blowing over me, and the sun was nowhere to be seen. I found myself in a kind of cathartic moment, I was filled with this intense yearning, a nostalgia for something I have never had. This feeling isn't uncommon for me, but I always welcome it like an old friend when it passes through me. In this moment, I was solely alone. Despite the fact that my date was standing next to me, that I could see ships in the water, and buildings in the distance. Despite the fact that footprints littered the beach, evidence of the tens of people to walk here before me. I was not alone, yet I felt it. Pure solitude, a feeling I welcomed and enjoyed.

    I felt so still in the moment, I felt the world was still, that this moment was just me and the vastness before me. Yet, their was constant movement. The waves crashing down on the ocean before me, the seagulls squawking and singing their off note tune, the blowing of the wind, nothing was still. Yet this moment was motionless. It reminded me of what we discussed in class, the interpersonal connection that we can have with nature. I felt a deep connection that day. My journey had taken me to this point. However short, I had gone on a pilgrimage of silence and isolation. My mind was cleansed, free from the stress of the world for even just a moment. As someone with every kind of anxiety you can have, this was a welcome surprise. 

    I find moments like these to be so bittersweet. I am no stranger to sadness, to yearning, and in moments like this that fill me with meaning and clarity it always comes with a deep sadness, so deep it almost doesn't read as sadness but another emotion entirely. Yet, these moments are some of my favorite. Have I become so accustomed to sadness that it no longer fazes me? I hope not, I hope this is simply some weird phenomenon that I don't know the specifics of. But regardless, I will cherish that day on the beach in winter, were the swirling chaos of the world felt still in its entirety, and my mind with it.