Heavy laden sky, drizzle and spray, strong winds blowing as the tail end of a spring storm passes. Try as I may, I couldn’t muster the resolve to take my bike out into this liquid landscape.

Instead, wandered through Beachside State Park, my favorite spot on the coast.  A flooded parking lot forced me under the shorepines to access the beach. 

I am so glad this beach is still here. This park was a central part of my youth.  Though we moved frequently, the lot of the itinerent preacher’s family, we always came out and camped at Beachside.  Nestled in a thin ribbon of land between US 101 and the Pacific Ocean, the park is the closest one can get to camping directly on the beach in Oregon.

I leave the car, and immediately am struck with memories.  Somehow the scent of the ocean and sand and salal and pines stirs my soul.  A warmth fills my heart.  I remember walking on this beach, under all sorts of weather, both outside and internally.  The challenges of adolescent emotions, the quest to determine my direction, the times of heartbreak and celebration and rites of passage.  All remembered, here at Beachside.

I drove over to the coast this morning, my heart heavy with grief, my mind confused with looming decisions, questions, dilemmas.  Sanity threatened by so many voices, all demanding court.  Napping in the van, the soft lull of the surf, calm returns.  Clouds part.  A sunny weekend for certain.  
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The title of this post is from a song by Cloud Cult.  During my drive I was enjoying the rocking soundscape and poignant lyrics.  A reminder of the temporal nature of existence, juxtaposed with the eternal presence of love.  Link to the song follows…

“Mist in the grass and sleep with the spirits
release the pain, it won’t do you any good
suck in the pollen and breathe with the raccoons
don’t hide from your own secrets

“You’re made of river driftwood
so pull in all your anchors
they’re waiting for you downstream
we’re waiting for you downstream

“Did you know God is far from perfect?
there really isn’t any such thing as perfect
’cause it’s the work of the ugly to highlight the beautiful
and in so doing, the ugly is beautiful too

“You’re made of water vapor
you’re solid as a cloud
but wind cannot be predicted
this change cannot be predicted

“Underneath your skin there are two feathered wings
but you’ll never use them ’cause you’re too scared
when you get used to such a limited reality
you’ve got no choice but to unlearn and start again

“You change like a volcano
your body is just a moment
but your love will live forever

“Your love will live forever”

– from They Live on the Sun, Cloud Cult

 

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