In celebration of my last beach day of this vacation, I intentionally arrived at Torrey Pines well before my friends. Just had to have that blissful fix before the chatter started. I headed straight for the north end because I knew I'd find solace and serenity there.
Everything- the chair, the un-assembled umbrella, cooler, bag loaded with oil, bbq chips (the must-have,staple beach food), book, music and extra clothes- all hit the sand at once, with an emphatic thud. Whipping off my clothes, my gaze fell immediately to the horizon, the line that borders excitement and uncertainty. I breathed deeply for several minutes before plopping into my colorful chair, then allowed myself the luxury of the question I was to ponder today.
Since I was a child playing at Jones Beach, on the occasions that someone's parents agreed to bring me along, I have loved seagulls. I must have a hundred or more snapshots of them from over the years, either on photo paper, or in my mind. The one who first caught my attention yesterday had an extraordinarily long beak. He seemed to stay in the same spot for quite a while until the remnant of a wave (which was receding faster than it was advancing) urged him to move.
He hobbled away, favoring his stick of a left leg. At first I felt pain thinking that this was a debilitating injury for my little friend (but refrained from crying for once). After an intense couple of minutes of watching and wondering, I grew relieved to see that in spite of his limp his life was a vital, enduring force to be awed- perhaps even more so, than the others'.
Jonathan Livingston..
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