The Boundary of the Ocean Rob Gieselmann, Pent. 24B,
Oct. 18, 2015
Seven or eight years ago, I kicked a sabbatical off with a short camping trip. I drove to Big Sur, and pitched my tent on a cliff, high above the Pacific Ocean.The nights were deep and dark. No moon, no light pollution, only stars. Millions of them, their ancient light, piercing the eternal veil –
Several shooting stars flew high above, as I sat there, alone with God. One, and then another, and one of them flew so low above me, it seemed larger than any I’d ever seen before – Fiery orange, and the size of my fist, and I thought to myself – if I listen hard enough, I’ll hear it splash into the Pacific … The thought was foolish, and the meteor landed miles away. I’m sure.The stillness of that night, the holiness of that dark, and the only sound besides my heartbeat was the low rumble of waves that kept pushing in vain against the craggy coast. Those waves seemed to think they could alter the ocean’s boundaries. The swells mo…
Seven or eight years ago, I kicked a sabbatical off with a short camping trip. I drove to Big Sur, and pitched my tent on a cliff, high above the Pacific Ocean.The nights were deep and dark. No moon, no light pollution, only stars. Millions of them, their ancient light, piercing the eternal veil –
Several shooting stars flew high above, as I sat there, alone with God. One, and then another, and one of them flew so low above me, it seemed larger than any I’d ever seen before – Fiery orange, and the size of my fist, and I thought to myself – if I listen hard enough, I’ll hear it splash into the Pacific … The thought was foolish, and the meteor landed miles away. I’m sure.The stillness of that night, the holiness of that dark, and the only sound besides my heartbeat was the low rumble of waves that kept pushing in vain against the craggy coast. Those waves seemed to think they could alter the ocean’s boundaries. The swells mo…