A Very Special Place

A long-planned, much-needed day off. A day for a visit to the seashore, the place where I find peace.

I puttered about, made a sandwich, and left the house at no particular time. Inching along when traffic backed up unexpectedly, I wondered if the trip would be worth it after all. Was the drive adding stress to my day?

I settled onto a bench and realized how quickly I might lose my lunch, in a moment of inattention, to a pair of determined ground squirrels (or a crafty seagull).

The skies cleared as I ambled along the coastal trail, in fits and starts, detouring onto the beach or taking a seat to gaze out to sea.

I snapped photos. I picked up litter (especially dismayed by a plastic spoon left beneath a scenically-situated bench).

The giant aloe plants had sent up red spikes; the flowers were fading, but I hoped to frame a good view.

The trail was busier than I'd expected for a weekday in the off-season; the sea, nonetheless, was working its magic.

Families, couples, singles walked and jogged in both directions. A young woman passed as I eyed the view between a pair of aloes, and suddenly turned back.

“A friend of mine is a Buddhist monk,” she said to me. “He comes here, in his orange robes, to meditate. He built a little altar, it's right here.”

She led me along a tight path between two of the giant plants. “He sits there,” she said, pointing to a flat rock. Tucked into the base of the plant was the altar.

She turned toward the water, sweeping her arm across the view. “This is a very special place,” she said. I took a deep breath.

“It is amazing to me that you are telling me this,” I said. “I have just lost a Buddhist friend, we just had services for her.” Her face froze.

I added “She was a cyclist, and she was struck by a vehicle.”

Her face contorted with grief. “I have to go now, I'm ... I'm doing a virtual race,” she stammered.

“I will stay here for a while,” I replied.

And so I did. Seated on the rock, contemplating the sea and the altar, the confluence of all the unplanned moments of my day (and hers) that brought us together at that spot, at that time. Wondering at whatever led her to single me out, to turn back, to address me. Taking in the very existence of this altar.

Thinking of Ellen and meditating, in my own primitive way, on a spiritual journey.