Another Wave is coming
I'm sat on the beach - cross-legged on the dark, soaked sand of the shore. The thick clouds above warn of turbulence, blanketing out the sun. The tide has rolled back, pulling away from me in preparation for a huge, catastrophic swell.
I smell the salt on a wind which is quiet before the impending storm. My hands rest easy in my lap, palms up in supplication. My body is relaxed - no tension can be felt in my meditative form. I open my eyes slowly to regard the monumental wave climbing higher in the distance. There are tear tracks visible down my face, distinct from the spray of the sea, which I refuse to wipe away.
There's no escaping this - it's too tall, too wide and too powerful. I've been on this beach before but I was but a child then, muddling and floundering through the surge half-blind without understanding. This time, I am still. I see the beauty in that wave, and understand that for a time I will be completely submerged - it will be all I know. It will rush over me, it may knock me over, force me face-down into the grit, pin me to the earth and not let me go.
But the power and enormity of the wave is something I'm proud of, and the pain that comes with it is something to celebrate, not fear. And when it is done, the beach will still be here and so will I, and what an experience it will be.