CREATIVE ESSAY

TranquilityLaura Ann Kauffman, null, United States

First published October 1, 2005

It is early in the morning when I rise. The light of day has yet to grace this side of the

earth with its presence. No longer do I need my alarm; my very instinct, something deep

within, tells me when it is time to awake. Gathering my surfboard, a swimsuit, and other

necessary equipment, I step outside and pause at the bottom of the stairs. Listening

intently, I realize that the shouts from the amusement parks have not started, and the

noise of civilization has yet to arrive. Everything is virtually silent save the waves

crashing in a location just beyond my view and the summer gulls trying to collect their

food for the day.

I smile and begin to walk. Up ahead, the boardwalk comes into view, and memories

abound within me from childhood summers spent on that walk: bike rides I’ve shared

with my family, trips up to the shop in the evenings for ice cream, chasing seagulls and

even learning how to fly a kite. This boardwalk defines my past, each individual board

somehow tells a part of my life story. As I make my way up the steps and onto the worn,

splintering boards, I look down both lengths. The numerous stores that line the expanse

are closed. Their lights, once welcoming and bright are off, as if they need a rest

themselves. As I make my way across and finally off of the wooded walkway, the

undeniable and easily recognized smell of the beach, a combination of salt and

seaweed, overwhelms me. I pass through the dunes, covered with ocean grass and the

most beautifully natural sight greets me.

“Tranquil,” I think to myself. If any word could possibly be fitting enough to describe the

sight before my very eyes, tranquil would be the word. It might even be something

beyond that, to some it could even be considered spiritual. It is a beauty recognized or

at least acknowledged by the common person, but only truly appreciated by those like

me.

We’re more than surfers. Our love of the single sport that binds us is built less on our

own skill than by the secret we share, that the ocean is mystical. It heals inner wounds

that nothing else can and is capable of consuming your very soul. Respect for the

ocean, the result of the driving force of nature and our communion with it, define who

we are.

As I sit on the sand, still cool from the previous night, with my board by my feet, I realize

beyond a doubt that I am the luckiest person on the planet. The waves are breaking in

perfect sets of four, some splashing into the jetties, while others make their way to greet

me on the shore. I take a moment to close my eyes, and everything is free and

completely at rest. Like the pieces of even the most intricate puzzle, everything just fits.

Then it starts to happen. This is something I have been a witness to on countless

occasions before, yet it still never ceases to amaze me and never will. The sun, the very

light of the world, begins to make its appearance over the distant, ever-present yet

mysterious horizon. It is almost as though a giant light switch has been flipped on as

glorious rays of silken purples, radiant pinks and delicate blues shine bright. The sun’s

likeness reflects off of the vast ocean waters in front of me, and, despite its blinding

qualities, it is mesmerizing. I do not blink at all, for fear I will miss a single second of the

sight that is far too beautiful for words: something beyond mere mortal comprehension.

Now, almost as quickly as it had begun, it fades away before ceasing. The moment in

time connecting the opposites night and day is gone. The sky shines clear and blue and

the coolness of the night before vanishes. The day has brought its life and night has

been chased away under its vanishing horizon to bring darkness and mystery to the rest

of the world, before making its return.

As I grab my board and head for the ocean, the wholeness of day and with it, reality

returns. I face it with excitement, regardless of the unknowns because this one thing I

know with certainty. Tomorrow, that marker in the space of time will return and once

again I know I will be awed and captivated by a secret known only to those who fail to

take it for granted and remain humbled by it.

An ocean sunrise, tranquility at its best.