Today we drove down from Monterey to The Big Sur, it is the first Sunday of my sabbatical I have not gone church.
We spend some of the afternoon on the beach and the experience is truly beautiful. The sandy floor is the on the edge between clear blue sky inland and the fog coming of the pacific and on the shore are waves. The waves come and come and come in their different forms rushing with excitement as if they are going somewhere they come with purpose as if they hold an appointment with someone or something. The big waves come to the show like large teenagers running towards daddies’ car to be loaned. The smaller ones like children running to the ice cream van eager for reward. Then come those waves that slowly edge their way across the sand when they arrive they hardly cover your feet they are like old people make less noise happy the stroll not in need of excitement.
But the waves come in all their forms. And they have come to the sand dependable since before time. Before the plane, the car, before the highway and all that brought us to this point, theses wave have come. Before empire before electric before kings and queens they came and the big ones have always been excited about their arrival. Each wave comes different from the other but performing the same task, each wave individual but going the same way. Repetition and beauty are not often found in other places. Repetition and beauty are a rare marriage. I presume for those of us who are pursuing a spiritual journey that includes the liturgy of words we need to be open to the beauty of repetition.