The warmth of Wednesday had dissipated as I walked along the rocky beach that had become the most comfortable place for me in all of Halifax. This day, though, a chilling wind had brought a mass of clouds to usurp the sky from the brilliant blue, a blue that had ruled many content citizens the day before.I was driven to walk beneath the grey. The rocks under my sandals were the same solid, reassuring realness they always have been. They’re great markers of slow change, shards of ever larger wholes. From celestial bodies to mountains to sand grains. I was an aspect of the Whole walking in my silence along the coast, blissful in the discomfort of the wind and the comfort of the ocean’s scent.
I was looking for a place sheltered from some of the wind where I could sit in meditation. I hadn’t done any extended outdoor meditation before this and wanted to try sitting in a serene place. This beach was what came immediately to mind when I decided to move in that direction.
I eventually spotted a flat area on the cliff that would work and ascended the rocks. I placed my messenger bag beside me and sat with my legs crossed. I settled into a stillness, looking out across the water and feeling my hair lifted with the air’s ceaseless dance.
I closed my eyes and listened to the rhythm of the waves, the crash and recede becoming a mantra. The waves falling on the rocks resound with an “om” and “shanti” was echoed as the water drew back through the space between the rocks, leaving them damp but empty.
My meditation began with this focus and the clearing was swift. My cluttered, noisy mind was no longer crashing about, now content to let the waves hold the motion. I did not attain the truer stillness I have in the past but I was refreshed and cleansed.
I became aware of the rhythm of the wind, which had grown colder. Wind can be harder to recognize as cyclical. Like a fire it flickers more than sway to and fro as the the ocean does. There is rhythm to the air currents, a push and pause that chilled my skin and had my hair moving in a storm of threads, rising and falling.
Some time later I opened my eyes. I glanced slowly across the water. The disruptions on the surface patterned it, creating a uniformity from localized disorder. I thought on this for a short while before being interrupted.
An older man came walking down the beach and bellowed up, “Hello!” We exchanged pleasantries and he said, “I used to be better at that when I was younger.” I thought he meant meditation, seeing that I was still sitting with crossed legs. However, he talked next about the terrain and I realized he had meant traversing the rocks. He soon continued on his trek.
With my still time disrupted I slipped my camera from my pocket and took a few photos before straightening my legs and climbing down and walking from the shore.