I am walking a beach and, suddenly, I feel utterly content. It matters not that this is a Scottish beach or an English beach or African or Caribbean or one of the great North American Pacific beaches, the moment is special.
This feeling does not come often and, when it does, it overwhelms me but I know it will not last long, so I feel I need to act on it: I must come back to this beach more often, perhaps should live on it - if only that were possible - or, at least, do something that will prolong the moment.
There is no law that says this feeling must be repeated in similar circumstances. I may come back to this same beach on an equally warm, sunny day with as gentle an easterly blowing, and feel nothing unusual.
I have similar feelings in other environments, but few. I have it on occasion when walking in the African bush, when watching a marvel of nature such as a spectacular sunrise or a great aurora, and when relaxing with a group of people who are very dear to me when, for example, we gather for a good meal. However, it is on beaches that it most often possesses me.
No comments:
Post a Comment