COASTLINES

by Hugh M. Lewis

The world had a beginning

And this beginning could be the mother of the world.

To see the small is called discernment;

To hold fast to the submissive is called strength.

Use the light

But give up the discernment

Bring not misfortune upon yourself

This is known as following the constant.

(Verse LII, Book Two of the Tao Te Ching, D.C. Lau, 1963:113)

The coastlines connect us to our origin. There is something basic and primordial about the coast where the ocean and the land meets. Whichever beach one stands upon, at the edge of the surf, one can sense a powerful movement of the ocean, an ocean that unites the entire earth in a vast belt of salt water. The waves that roll in to break before one's feet are those that have broken on the coasts of the lands of the dinosaurs. It is the same basic water--evaporated and precipitated countless times over. It is the same water that gave birth to all life on earth, and that has been the great source of evolution on earth. All life is dependent upon it one way or another. The primordial soup that life was supposed to have first been cooked up in was figuratively the amniotic fluid of the earth's placenta. We are all therefore children of the earth, whether we can feel it in our bones and blood or not.

Coming down to the coast and walking through the surf has always been for me a time of reflection and retrospection, and a time for feeling a sense of attachment to the wider earth. To see a distant ship cutting the water across the horizon of the sea is to sense both the relative distance and proximity of exotic, foreign ports. The continuous, never ending rhythms of the waves rolling in and pounding the shore, of the tides that come in and go out, are resonant with the rhythms of the pulse of our blood beneath our skin, and of the rhythms of breathing and living and dying of all life on earth. Going to the shoreline of the sea is a time of renewal of our sense of earth being. It is an affirmation of our place within earth's larger order.

To see the long term work of the waves--the stratigraphy of the crumbling shoreline--the wave-worn rocks and cliffs, smoothed over and compressed, the broken bits of shells and the turning of rocks into ever finer particles of sand, is to realize the cumulative power and the ceaseless work of the ocean in transforming the landscapes of the edges of the continent.

It is recognition of this deep and vital connection to the ocean that we have come to regard the industrial depredations of the seas with special sensitivity and significance. Nothing connotes ecological disaster or invites our disgust as a huge oil slick in the sea. When we see fish floating belly up in the water amongst a bunch of human trash and flotsam, we see clearly in no uncertain terms the makings of an ecological nightmare.

Like nothing else on earth, the sea invites us to our primordial sense of earth being. It awakens within us that sense of connectedness which sleeps while we barrel at 70 miles per hour down the freeway, spewing out a long trail of poisonous exhaust. Confronting the immensity and power of the sea, we can feel more acutely our own miniscule stature and weakness in the world--making all our man-made feats seem inflated and grandiose by comparison.

Standing upon the brink of darkness

We hark back to a younger world

To an innocent age filled with youthful dreams

and the play of fantasy

Unconstrained by the strictures

of too much science and too much wisdom

The cold wind blows upon our faces

and blind us from our fate

a lost, naive youth

full of naked love and raw violence

stained by tears and mocked by laughter

forlorn freedoms and minor infractions

flown with the winds

blown by the breezes

into the long night of our fear and longing

hapless hope and historical accidents

Twisting and turning

Bending and unending

Trials and tribulations

Of unexpected and untimely transformations

and distorting transitions and transitory distortions

leaving one's spine

Misshapen and bent beneath the yoke

stretched out upon the rack

of many hard and uneven resting places

a rough rock for a pillow

fitful sleep and wakeful dreams

acute visions and sharp feelings

interrupting the spell

like rain drops splashing into the stillness

of the surface of the water

broken bits and missing pieces

long lost fragments and forgotten moments

like a shattered mirror

reflecting multiple images

partial and incomplete

the only remnants remaining

so many shards and splinters

mindful memories

a lifetime's mosaic of meaning

The saltiness of the vast ocean

tasted in a single tear drop

the watercourses that wind around the world

flow through our very veins

the waves that roll and pound upon every shore

pound within the heart of our own chest

the homeless winds that blow without rest

blow with our every breath

the wind and water

that erase all signs of the past

and erode all forms of nature

wear away our own worn and wrinkled skin

the sand and soil composing all life on earth

lies buried beneath our nails

squashed in the mud between our toes

The echoes of our evolutionary beginning

still ringing deep inside the conch shell

the roaring waves and howling winds

resonate within its spiraling interior chambers

and whisper mysteriously in our ears

calling us back to an earlier epoch

an age before words, before time itself

of nameless dreams and dreamless realities

beckoning us back to our basic being

The sounds of our thoughts

like ethereal spirits

float freely in the interior spaces

of our vast boundless universe

eluding every act of our consciousness

evading every facet of our existence

The gong clangs in the darkness

and clangs again and then again

and trails off into the dark empty spaces

of the background silence

the chanting rises ever so slowly

its volume quickening in the tempo

and rhythms of the gong's reverberations

and then like a distant vagabond train

quickly fades away back into the cool night

the train for lost and wayward wanderers

has made yet another journey across the night

to the other world

This solitary frame

focuses the entire universe

by its dancing, entrancing light

like a far-off flickering star

defeating the darkness and the cold

consciousness brought to bear upon a single point

contrasted by the playful shadows that are cast

all around the world

The distant bells ring at the top of every hour

broadcast slowly, steadily across the many spaces

bringing to the world a singular sense of purpose

a brief instant of unity and clarity

the chimes follow upon the breezes

and fill the air with a sublime softness

bringing to a stop the many momentary affairs

suddenly seeming so trivial and crude

by its surrounding comparison

the noisy world becomes so silent

and even seems to make a little sense

so many masks we wear

that we feel naked without one

and beneath the mask

our eyes tell of the silent truth

that lies locked within our hearts

hidden away from the everyday world

even from our own reflection

in the mirror

masks of many colors

that hide the lines of black and white

masks of gray shadows

that cover over the many different colors

we hide our truths behind our masks

disguising our many imperfections

fashioning myths with our lies

making poetry and music from our fleeting dreams

I met you before

a long time ago

in a distant dream

and when we first saw one another

there was a mutual look of instant recognition

after the dream

I woke up knowing

that I would meet you again

where and when was it that we first met

that we had since forgotten about it

and who were we when we knew one another

that we must now get to know each other

once again

I recently had a dream

in which you turned and looked into my eyes

and touched me

and now you stand here looking into my face

but you hesitate to touch me

like you did before

have we changed so much

that all our differences now matter

more than a dream

In my earliest dreams

just bits and pieces

fragments of a lost world

there I was standing upon a pyramid

and beneath the ramparts of a clay walled city

the soldiers in their ranks

with metal shields and shinning, plumed helmets

there I was again

walking through the forest

on a shinny and quiet day

peering through the trees

at an adobe building

there again was I

standing in the sand

upon the edge of a vast sea

and the waves were breaking

forcefully upon my feet

and there across the channel

a long, solitary island

there I am again

standing in the midst of a battle field

the enemy rushing at me in closed ranks

and then I am suddenly flying

as my feet just drift above the ground

I hover over the field

and then fly up into the clouds

I land again in a strange and distant place

It is a mountain ledge

and there are strange people waiting there for me

Monster dwelling deep within

the dark mountain cave

distant words arouse its attention

it awakens and arises from its lair

and moves down the passage way in the direction of the sounds

the words grow louder and clearer

monster can almost grasp their meaning

closer the monster moves to the mouth of the cave

where the day creates a twilight of muted shadows

Monster stops short in approximate understanding

then retreats again

in echoing silence

the beckoning calls

trailing off into the darkness

one day cast in sun and clouded shadow

shadows dancing over shadows

dancing beneath the trees with spots of sunlight

the next day shrouded in a somber still grey

a cold diurnal twilight cast over a depressed world

the following day cast in rose colored filter

glowing scarlet and pink in every corner

the next day bright and vibrant

the many rain-washed colors reflecting

the blinding sun

the following day a rainy one

that's spent snugly inside

each day a little different from the last

no two days ever quite the same.

the saltiness of the vast ocean

tasted in a single tear drop

the watercourses that wind around the world

flow through my very veins

the waves that roll and pound upon every shore

pound within the heart of my own chest