Anywho... I came across a number of photos from several trips I've taken over the past few years. I think now more than ever, I really appreciate the opportunity to go somewhere else for a few days. We always took fun vacations as I was growing up, but really, how hard is your life when you're 10 years old and you're really only worrying about whether or not your best friend is going to be in your class next year. Okay, that really was stressful... but how little did I know then... It's not like dealing with a crazy job or being the person who has to pay the bills and put food on the table... and I'm only responsible for myself. Thank goodness. In any case, it's so nice to be able to escape into a new world for a few days, learn about the history, eat the food, and experience the beauty that God has placed all around us. Looking at my pictures, even though the places I've traveled have been pretty different from one another, I've seen a recurring theme in the moments that have felt the most still and calm...
Yep. Those are two very different places... a sandy beach in Florida and a snowy field in Indiana, and yet for me somehow they evoke the same sense of silent freedom from the rest of the world. I'll start with sand.
I didn't always love the ocean. Some people grow up loving the beach and the only thing they would ever want to do in the world is find some sand and sit on it until they turn into lobsters. I am not one of those people. See, I am one of the pale freckle-faced kids who was always forced into a t-shirt mid-day to avoid death by sunburn. No one wants to do ANYTHING in a huge soggy t-shirt. You're trying to play in the sand and have some fun, but instead you're just dragging a sopping mess around everywhere you go. You know how sand collects in every single thing you take on the beach? Well, dampen all that stuff, then cover it in sand, and drape it all over your body, and that's what the t-shirt feels like. I was at the beach with my best friend a couple years ago, and a family with young kids was playing next to us. At one point, the mom said, "Okay, it's time to put on your t-shirt." And the one kid yelled emphatically, and in slow motion, "NOOOOOOTTTT... THE... TEEEEEE... SHIIIIIIIIIIIRT!" I so knew what he was feeling. Poor guy. And of course, no matter how much time you spend in the gross drippy sand-infested t-shirt, you still get sunburned. It's so not worth it.
Another charming fact: I'm also the person who attracts jellyfish everywhere, literally, every. where. I go. I've been stung six different times now, in six different beaches across the western hemisphere. Some weren't as bad as others... some were sort of innocent brushes of momentary sting and redness. One was the worst possible hell you can imagine. I am prone to exaggerate from time to time, but I'm not kidding about this. When I was 14, my parents took me on a trip to Cancun for spring break. This sounds super awesome right? Let me remind you, I was 14. And with my parents. It was lovely, but I assure it looked nothing like your vision of spring break in Cancun. As people do in Cancun, we took a day trip snorkeling. It was one of those throw-all-the-white-people-on-a-bus-and-drive-them-away-from-the-resorts-and-past-all-the-poverty, let-them-swim-and-get-sunburned-and-then-feed-them-food-that-may-or-may-not-be-safe kind of deals. The first part of our trip, a stop at the ancient ruins of Tulum, was really cool. I was kind of always a history nerd, so I really did enjoy that. After lunch (which didn't kill me), we boarded the bus again and drove to a beach where the water was crystal clear blue and everything seemed perfect and idyllic. We threw on our snorkel gear and headed out. We'd been seeing floating drifts of what looked like seaweed along the way... no big deal. We kept swimming. It drew near time to head back to the bus, so we started swimming toward the shore. Oh, look, more of that seaweed. Oh, wait... no... something is burning... Oww, no, it's really burning... These must be jellyfish... Shit! Let's get out of them... Oh, God, now they're everywhere... The only choice we have is to keep swimming to the shore... Now I can feel them in my bathing suit... Am I dying?!! I think I'm dying... Did I go to hell? Because this feels like hell... Oh, praise Jesus! My foot is on the sand... I'm running... I'm still dying... I'm pulling of my damn bathing suit and ripping these little motherf*ckers (which wasn't even in my 14-year-old vocabulary) off of me... Showers! There are showers... Oh, thank God. Rinse... And yes, let's pull that bathing suit back up... Seriously. Miserable. Imagine the worst pain you've ever been in. Now imagine that you are experiencing said pain on a hot humid beach in Mexico, where your 14-year-old body is mostly naked in front of 15-20 foreign and domestic strangers. Suh-weet. I had red and purple whelps from those bastards (the jellyfish, not the strangers) under my arms and across my chest for about 8 weeks. The most awesome part is that this happened at the beginning of the trip, so I got to spend the rest of my time afraid to even walk next to the ocean and also in pain. Double sweet. Since then, I've been stung a couple more times, once by jellyfish larvae that you CAN'T EVEN SEE IN THE WATER. So unfair. I feel like invisible things shouldn't be able to wreak havoc. Amiright?
So yes, suffice it to say, I was not always a fan of the beach. I'm a Pisces, which is a water sign, so I've always had a love for water - being in it, near it, whatever - it's just been rough going with the other things hanging out in there, too. I guess you could call me a "pool person." But as I've gotten older, the beach/ocean and I have come to more of an understanding. It promises to try not to screw me over with creatures, and I promise not to curse and mock it publicly. After spending time on the coast in Rhode Island and Boston's North Shore and experiencing the simultaneous peace and power of the ocean, my cold heart started to melt a little. I felt safe and secure and completely happy there. Spending a week in the slow-paced quiet town of Amelia Island - and magically not getting touched by any animal! - I started to feel a true calm, looking out into the expanse. This past summer in Key West, I almost felt like I was at the edge of the world, and all I could see ahead was perfect emerald water and sky, blended into one. There's something to be said for perfect capped white peaks and the world beyond the sand.
As we move into the winter months, with the holidays upon us, I can't help but think about snow. Unlike my rocky relationship with sandy beaches, my relationship with snow has been pretty consistent. It's like a great old friend who lives somewhere else. I don't see it that often, but when I do, it's pretty much perfect. It reminds me of Christmases spent at my Grandma's in Indiana, sneaking an extra chocolate chip cookie, and racing my cousins down the stairs (on pillows, not feet) in the old farm house. It makes me think of the time that a random blizzard hit the southeastern United States, and we spent the week living like pioneers with no power, lighting fires, huddling in one room to sleep at night, and watching the dog, unseen, burrow a trail in the 5-foot snow drifts. After day number five of melting snow to flush the toilet, that whole thing got a little old... but in the early stages, it was pretty fantastic.
I realize that there are people who live places where snow is consistently a pain in the butt. Where it gloms on city sidewalks, covered in dirt from street sweepers... Especially after the blizzard experience, I can appreciate that some of the magic might get lost when daily life and all practical functions are interrupted. But for now, snow is perfect Christmas music and hot chocolate and fuzzy blankets and twinkle lights (the kind that are beautiful and well organized - not the ones that are randomly hung and blinking spastically). Snow is my first Notre Dame football game. It's a long deep breath with a slow exhale. It is clean and crisp and white, and when it covers everything as far as the eye can see, disguising any imperfections underneath, it's like somehow everything is suddenly right in the world. And it just makes me happy.
All photos are by me, taken with all sorts of cameras/phones in all sorts of places.
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