The sound seemed to materialise out of nothing. Aside from the regular pad of my shoes on the compacted sand - which I wasn’t paying attention to - a stillness and quiet had remained consistent for the last ten minutes or so. I had come to pause to watch a pacific gull in the distance, standing on an outcrop of reef about ten metres from the shoreline. The late afternoon light was intense and glaring, but had angled enough towards the horizon to project a gentle shimmer on the surface of the sea and cast the gull in a half silhouette. I watched it stay motionless there in profile, not knowing if it was at all regarding the human figure looking back at it.
It was then that the sound came ahead of the stationed gull, as a subtle bump formed on the surface of the water. It was delicate but pronounced, like wet hands being clasped together. A shallow wave then rolled towards the shoreline, a continuation of the previous sound, though now perpetuated in its motion for the next couple of seconds. Then it made contact: gently saturating a long snaking bank of dried seagrass. At the time I couldn’t understand exactly why, but I was astonished and deeply moved by this event. The stillness and quiet then resumed for another minute or so, until the next wave formed. In the distance, the gull remained motionless on the rock.
It had been some time since natural phenomena had captivated me like this. Often when I’ve been in far more unique environments (glaciers, rain forests) events which are unfamiliar might leave me in states of wonder and bewilderment. In those scenarios where we are traveling and separated from the everyday and mundane, the world renders itself as novel and open-ended. However, in given instances, our attention can be somewhat biased by the acknowledgement that this is different and - providing we’re open to it - a lot of things around us are going to be interesting. It’s surprising then when this otherwise very familiar stretch of coastline south of my hometown can summon something so potent, a natural happening that feels eternal. Feet planted on the shore, held there long enough to be momentarily suspended and glimpsed along an expansive continuum, between pre-human and post-human epochs.
Tristan I watched a meteor shower with my Mom a few months back. It was mesmerizing. I love staring at a full moon as well. I don't know why. It's just the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I feel like our disconnect from the heavens because of light pollution is a huge problem. I feel so incredible when looking at the stars. Thanks for restacking my note yesterday, by the way. I'm subscribing.