Solace

The Act of Self-Consolation

I once had the misfortune of arriving too late to watch the sunset at the beach.

The sinking feeling you get when you watch the blood-like smudge of colors in the blue while you are racing down the bridge to catch the last glimpse of that glittering line between earth and sky. It's somewhat like catching the train, yeah? It's somewhat like that.

And when I finally reached the sandy enclosure, the sky had turned dusky, a color of smeared ink on golden parchment paper. The tide was just beginning to rise. I spied the pearly lunate body in the sky, surrounded by sprinkling diamonds. The rocks looked obscure in the darkness, like gigantic craggy mountains in the middle of the sea. The great thing about travelling with friends is, even when the only sound you can hear is the lapping refreshing sound of waves on the shore, you can still hear bursts of magical laughter in the air.

Sometimes an injured heart, a disturbed mind or a depressed soul has no direct cure. Except maybe a journey to a beautiful place. I always made it a point to visit the Riverside or the Beach in times like this. To see that crimson blushing sunset. To watch those harmonic waves go back and forth. Somewhat like the bouncing notes in a piano. Black and white.

I walked down to the shore, over the lovely cascading sand, which felt soft like muslin under my toes. As soon as the cool water touched my feet, I felt elevated. The sublime feeling of cleanliness and calm. Heartache comes and goes. Shit happens. But the sea, is like this body of constancy that knows no change. One small drop makes no difference. No difference at all.

I walked down the beach, following the gentle curvature of the bay. Waves crept up to me and rolled away. I tried to decipher what I was feeling, but suddenly I could remember nothing. Or maybe I could remember everything so well that it made no change at all. Maybe this sounds a lot more philosophical than normal, but I came to realize one thing.

Life should be like the Sea Beach. Where the smooth sand is symbolic of the roses and the sediments would stand for the thorns. And those humongous rocks were solid disasters. Where the sand filters through your fingers like time passes by. Nothing is in your hands. Where the salty taste on your trembling lips, is the bitter taste of uncontrollable tears. Where the gleaming smiles and childish laughter on the shore, would be all the happiness and joyful play that one should embrace. Where the eternal sea would be the human mind, calm and unchanging, but yet adaptable to circumstances.

Graceful in times of bliss, turbulent in times of sorrow.

I looked down at the footprints on the shore. Last but not least, Life's about erasing and moving on. I traced the footprints back across the shore, and with every step they faded away. Some memories are not meant to last, they are meant to be covered by layers of other radiant thoughts. They don't go away, but they get hidden under blankets of sand. If only for temporary satisfaction.


But in the end, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. What makes you feel vulnerable, also lifts you up and commands you to be braver. And somehow, these thoughts played like a whirlwind in my mind. As I walked away, away from that perturbation, I looked back at the beach and felt irrevocably...solaced.