Getting Clear on an Overcast Day

There is just something about the beach, some sort of unexplainable connection that I love. I don’t know if it is the water, the rhythm of the waves or the open space but it draws us, and holds us there as though hypnotized.

Being the only person there, a lone soul on a deserted shore, just intensifies those feelings and that sense of connection.

This morning I walked the beach alone, a light drizzle falling. This beautiful section of Burlington, Ontario's South Beach is gorgeous and has become a recent favorite of mine. The only sound competing with the waves was a few seagulls going about their business. I followed a group of nervous sandpipers, lost in my thoughts, the rainy surroundings invoking in me a very weird and difficult to explain sense of both melancholy and joy.

It definitely feels like fall today, I thought and with that, the fading of yet another summer that has gone by much too quickly. Is this the way it’s meant to be? The perception at least, that time speeds up as we age, that our youth is replaced by responsibilities and commitments and sunrises become a luxury to be enjoyed only sporadically?

Heading further up the beach, I came across two older gentleman, clad in shiny black wetsuits, returning to shore from an open water swim. An admirable pursuit, I thought and maybe a way to hang on to summer as well as to vitality just a little bit longer.

I turned back and started walking in the direction from where I came. I noticed my footprints in the sand, the only ones on the beach. An interesting metaphor I thought. Life, a journey, spent interacting and intertwined with others, but ultimately travelled alone. Perhaps this was the source of my mixed emotion, each step representing an exciting step forward but also one less step to look forward to.

I veered away from the beach, but paused to look back one more time. Soon my footsteps would be washed away by the rain and the water, all signs of my visit erased.

Maybe this is also a part of our connection to the water, I thought. Clarity and a cleansing of the mind. Feeling now more joy than melancholy, I walked away, perhaps a little wiser, and I smiled.