Chasing Sunsets:
Finding Peace And Accomplishment In Nature
It’s Saturday and I don’t have any plans for my afternoon. I have been working all day to try to catch up with my self regulated work pace and now am looking forward to relaxing with what remains of my weekend. I text my friend Jamie hoping that she might hold the remedy to my lack of social plans.“We’re going to see the sunset! Come Come Come!” is the response I get followed by several smiley face emojis. It always feels good to be wanted. They plan on leaving before I was planning on finishing working, but when you are working for yourself there is no real end to the work so I decide to “leave work” a bit early.
I understood that when Jamie said, “We’re going to see the sunset.” She meant going to the beach. She had been talking about it for weeks so I could join her in finally going. From Salem Oregon where I reside the beach is only an hour drive west. It’s an enjoyable drive and that day was no exception. I sat and chatted with my companions as they discussed drugs, sex, and politics, as groups of college students often do. Each one posed their own stances on each topic; each accepted the stances of the others, yet each secretly knew their stance was right. I’ve always enjoyed listening to people discuss controversial issues, there is a visceral tension that occurs that emboldens speakers to take strong stands on issues they’re not sure they actually believe in. That tension has a power to stoke our minor ideals into wild passions as we echo our forefathers cry, “Liberty or death,” in response to issues that no one would truly give their lives for.
As we travel the light continues to fade and a worried, “Faster! Faster!” comes from the back as a fear of missing the sunset creeps into my friend. How strange that an age-old daily phenomenon can still provoke such desire to be seen and captured. We arrive in Lincoln city, our beachhead destination, with minutes to spare. The city is a long strip that hugs the curve of the coast as if to demonstrate the confusion of the first settlers as reached the edge of the world. The streets are lined with rundown knick-knack shops and underwater themed galleries. As you drive along the strip every road to your left leads to a hotel or condominium, while every road to the right heads to the all the hotels exist. Nobody comes to Lincoln City for the city itself. Lincoln City only exists for the ocean and the weary pilgrims that voyage to see it.
We pull into a parking lot to catch the last rejuvenating rays. It is cloudy, but a rebellious orange beam of sunlight forces its way through the clouds satisfying the longing of our souls. There is something about, the beach, the roaring ocean, the wind and the waves of families that always makes me want to run away from the main group and be alone with nature. There is still a sense of romanticism associated with being alone with nature, a sense no amount of civilized culture will ever pull out of me.
Alone I find my way down the beach to some rocks that peak out above the sand. They appear as though they too were waves once, frozen in an instant, still rippling and jetting above one another. I make my way out to the farthest point and stand looking across the quivering sea. My whole vision is captured by the wind and the waves and I breathe deeply of sea air. There is a cleansing that occurs at moments like this.
I desire to stand there forever but I notice, with increasing dismay that a rather large wave is coming in my direction. The rocks I made my way out upon are smooth and slick and I don’t trust my ability to run on them so I sit and pray that water will not be high enough to get over my little outpost. As the wave gets within ten feet I realize that there is no hope that it will not reach me and attempt to make a last ditch escape. However, I am too slow and the water rushes past my fleeing ankles soaking my socks and shoes, before abandoning me cold, wet, and embarrassed.
I make my way back to my friends and sheepishly admit I went too far out and got a little wet. Jamie triumphantly exclaims, “I told his pants looked wet,” to Kyle, the guy who drove us all over. We laugh and head back up to watch the last defiant rays fade. I borrow some sandals from my new friend Kyle, he offers some socks as well but I decline, feeling somewhat awkward for having to borrow footwear and we go out to eat before heading home.
As I drive home I feel content, as though I had just accomplished a long sought after goal. I wonder what it is that I should feel good about? I got to spend time with some fun and enjoyable company, but that was not the type of good feeling I had. It felt like checking an item off your bucket list or finishing a long book. I had been to that beach several times, I had seen the sunrise and the sunset, and I had even recently swum in the ocean. Why did I feel accomplished for the simple act of being in nature?
I think there is some part of our human DNA that never gets used to living indoors. Within us there is a desire to be in nature, to awake to the natural warmth of the summer sun and the bitter cold of winter wind. We want to climb the highest mountains, looking down triumphantly and we want to sit and enjoy a sunset. We want calloused hands and wind scorn faces. There is a desire and peace that comes from getting away from the concrete jungle and setting foot in the natural one. An energy and exhilaration drawn out of getting away from all the objects made by man and standing in reverent awe of the ones not.
To be clear, I am not declaring we ought to abandon our homes or our comfy couches. Trust me when I say that I love a good fireplace more than anyone else I know. However, there is something healing and cathartic about being in nature that we cannot overlook.
Living in the Pacific Northwest, there is an underlying pressure to constantly enjoy the outdoors. I mean why wouldn’t we, we are surrounded by the ocean, cliffs, rivers, and mountains. We feel pressured to enjoy it, but I think that pressure is good. It turns into an excuse to turn off our cell phones, the inability to use the Internet, and the necessity of trusting your gut and leaning on your intuition. It pulls us away from distractions, which is an integral effect of the journey into nature.
These simply actions can help ground us in the foundation of who we are meant to be. We live such scattered lives. Our attention is often demanded from a thousand different places. We feel obligated to do so much, nature reduces all those distractions and allows us to simply focus of beauty. It allows us to focus on our natural scope in the world; we are no smaller than giants to the grass, yet not bigger than ants to the mountains.
We are meant to be able to focus, to sit and ponder the complexities of life without a tweet or text distracting our attention. To be in nature is to be able to sit and enjoy the simplicity of life as it is meant to be lived. We we can do this then we will see that no matter what life throws our way we will be okay. Business meetings, tests, job interviews, and failures are simply steps on the journey. Sometimes you slip and get you feet wet, that’s okay, because the view as the end is worth it.
P.S. Josh Garrels’ Song, “Beyond The Blue” is a wonderful song to listen to while watching a sunset at the ocean…or any body of water for that matter.
