The ocean is louder up close

From the highway it is a blue idea. From the cliff path it is a sound. From the sand at the foot of the cliff it is a body, heaving, and you understand for the first time why people in old stories thought it was alive.

I walked down with my shoes off because I wanted the cold. I wanted to be a small clear instrument tuned by the cold. I walked until the water was over my ankles and I stood there for as long as I could stand it, which was not very long, and then I walked back up the path with sand stuck to my calves and my heart doing the thing it does when I have remembered I am not unbearable to be.

The ocean does not need you. That is the gift. It will be loud and indifferent for the rest of your life and you can borrow that indifference whenever you need it. I borrow it often. I bring it back smaller than I borrowed it. The ocean does not notice. That is also the gift.