Today I felt drawn to the sea, so I headed down the valley to Muir Beach. I spotted this bench, the tiny shiny rectangle on the hill, and decided to claim it as my meditation spot.
As I sat, listening to the sea and wind, tasting the salt, I would occasionally lift my eyes and take in the waves running ashore. I watched the patterns of spindrift and seafoam. They formed and reformed, never the same shapes, always restless.
Looking farther out to sea, I could see swells and the surfers. Beyond them, I saw the deep waters over the San Andreas Fault, the Farallon Islands, and at last, the churning seas of the ill-named Pacific Ocean.
I wondered at the bubbles, and took in the immensity of the ocean. I puzzled at their entanglement. How does one beget the other? Part of a chant by Paramahansa Yogananda popped into my mind:
Wave on the sea, dissolve in the sea; Wave on the sea, dissolve in the sea. I am the bubble, make me the sea; I am the bubble make me the sea.
So, since it seemed to answer my question, I began to chant quietly. Then, as I realized the wind and waves were loud and I was alone perched on my bench, I started to chant louder. Soon, I sang full voiced into the wind. Make me the sea, oh make me the sea! I am the bubble, make me the sea!
I quieted into meditation but soon sensed some hikers lurking behind me, evidently coveting my bench. I relinquished it and walked the beach, studying the bubbles and the sea.
This is not a beach known for shells, but I found an intact keyhole limpet. I gave it to a little girl in a periwinkle sweater who tucked it into her pocket. She pulled out a bit of broken mussel shell to show me the amazing nacre hidden inside. Our small shared joy surrounded us like sunlight.
Contemplative Seeing 