Blue and White

You're on a beach. The tide breathes in and out, and you breathe with it. Air wells up deep inside you and blows back into the salty atmosphere. You look out at the ocean, so vast that it covers the whole world. The ocean reminds you that we are the small ones here, and that our land is not as big at the sea. You walk down to where the sand feels more like clay and let the water pass over your ankles. The sensation it brings connects you to everyone else in the world with their feet in this water, on the edge of the infinite. The sky does this too. You feel closer to people you have never met. The clouds above make for a great theater for which the whole world has a ticket. You take in the drama of bulby cumulus and cirrus wisps. They stay up high, out of your reach until they darken and fall. You know they all do. And you think right now, that ocean you are in is being taken back up again, invisibly rising to join the blue and white play. What has fallen returns to the sun, to fall again, to rise again.  The ebb and flow of the natural world  synchronizes with your own breathing. You close your eyes. Without them, you see that these two great worlds are controlled by that single ball of light. Though it seems to rise and fall itself, you know it is only the world that spins and turns away. It will turn tonight, just as the sea will recede and the clouds will pass away; just as you, too, will leave this place. You open your eyes, and the beauty of these huge and wondrous forces overcomes you. A dolphin jumps on the horizon. One cloud looks like a sailboat on a higher, shoreless sea. You come to realize that your little strip of beach has been caught between two heavens. You smile as a fresh breeze blows across your face. The sandy wind on your bare skin makes you feel real, dirty, imperfect. But so are skies and seas when they get angry. Everything falls except the brilliant sun. But they are all good. Yes, you think as you close your eyes to see again. It is good.