A Wakeup Call

Tchack, Tchack, Tchack.   A mockingbird’s morning salutation carried through the dim pre-dawn light ending the nighttime silence. I smiled as I walked down the three flights of outdoor steps at my timeshare in Atlantic Beach, NC.  Mockingbirds, feisty, busy, birds who like a high open perch, are always the first to vocalize in the morning, almost as if it was their job to broadcast a wakeup call to all the other birds and to the wider world.

I was also responding to a wakeup call, an internal one, to conduct a sit spot on the beach and watch the sun rise over the ocean.  It was the last full day of my week, my last opportunity.

Walking along the sidewalk between the timeshare buildings I reflected that this whole sit spot adventure that I had been on for almost seven years, this connecting with nature journey, had, over time, taken on a life of its own and had come to exert a certain control over my life.  Once an idea for a location, a time, and a theme for a sit spot popped into my mind, I would have no peace until I acted upon it.

I wondered what part of my mind gave birth to these ideas.  Was it some inner growth oriented guidance system, some aspect of intuition, or a call from the spiritual self?   This idea to view an ocean sunrise, to see and hear and feel a new day begin along the beach had taken hold of my imagination more than a week ago, had grown in strength, had easily roused me from sleep, and now invested me with a sense of purpose.

The Moon                                           Interval 1                    6:58 am

I crossed the wooden boardwalk over the barrier sand dunes.  I loved these dunes; fragile, dynamic, with ever changing shapes that arrested the waves and storm surges and protected the low lying lands behind.  It was the first on-shore band of terrestrial vegetation; beach grass, sea oats, bitter panicum, and seaside golden rods, all plants adapted to thrive in the dry, nutrient poor sandy soil and to withstand the constant buffeting of sea winds and salt spray.

Pausing for a moment in the dim light I watched the sea oats sway gently in the breeze and heard the faint rustling of the dune grasses.  I realized that these plants were also waiting the sun to rise to provide the energy needed for the growth of leaves, stems, flowers and the all-important, spreading roots that helped hold the dunes in place.

Flipping off my sandals I walked across the soft sand down to the water’s edge, set up my camp stool, sat down, and settled into to listen and look.  To my left the sky was still dark enough for me to see a morning star shining high in the sky and to see the tiny pinpoints of street lights further up the shore.  A layer of promising soft yellow light tinged at the top with pink emerged above the horizon over a line of dark clouds.

Glancing to my right I was surprised to see that the moon was just setting, a full golden moon that looked for a second as if was resting on top of a row of beach-side homes.  I stared at the moon, witnessed its perceptible descent behind the houses, and saw it drop quickly drop below the horizon. 

It was an unusual experience; moon set to my right, sun rise to my left.  The unique geography of the Crystal Coast made this possible; shoreline curved in so that that the long barrier island faced east to west.

But it was more than geography that made the moment unusual.  It was novel to see the moon set, but it also felt vaguely unsettling, a feeling I registered but couldn’t quite find words for.  And it was a full moon which would create extra strong tides and more drama and intensity in the cycle of life along the seashore.

A Boat                                                Interval 2        7:08

I watched the waves lap upon the shore, splashing surf, white tipped foam reaching up the beach and then sliding back down. I heard the rhythmic plash of ocean water upon sand.  It was a medium high surf; the ocean settling from yesterday’s storm.

Watching and listening to the waves I noticed differences in their height and sound.  I kept track of the waves; small, small, small, medium, medium, large, large, large.  Then I counted a return to nine small waves, followed by a trio of large waves succeeded by five of medium waves.  Waves within waves, patterns within patterns, I thought.

I looked far out and spotted a fishing boat bobbing on the water, nets hung to the side, decks illuminated by greenish light.  The boat, all alone on a vast ocean, under a dim pre-dawn sky instantly evoked tender, poignant even melancholy feelings.

Aren’t we all like the little boat, alone on a vast sea tossed by waves of circumstance and pushed and pulled by currents and tides of fate?  As I watched the boat plow steadily through the waves I felt a sense of encouragement.   I began to cheer inwardly for the boat’s steady progress, for its forward movement on its mission of the day.

I realized this was all projection on my part.  For the men and possibly women on the boat it was just another day at work.  But, I couldn’t help but to wish them well and hope that they too were enjoying the morning light and savoring an early start to their day.

Up                                                       Interval 3                    7:18 am

A thin line of brightening yellow, orange, red and pink slowly pushed above the horizon. Steadily, inexorably the sky lightened all around me.

Three cormorants, black and long with steady duck-like wing beats flew over the water.  Seven pelicans in a straight line flapped and glided by.  A pair of ring-billed gulls flew overhead, pale breasts, dark wing tips, calling hiyah-hyak, hiyah-hiyak. A tern sailed by, graceful slender, sickle shaped wings, sharp eyes scanning the water below.  A flock of dark and light winged sanderlings zipped above the water softly crying kip, kip, kip.  A tall, stately, long-billed willet walked the shore line.  Turning around I saw a flock of ruddy turnstones stirring from their roosting spot higher up on the beach.

I realized that the shorebirds were up and active, that they needed the light to fly and forage.  For some reason I held the erroneous belief that these birds were more influenced by the rhythm of the tides than the cycle of daylight.  But now I discovered that the shorebirds swung into action at daybreak just like the terrestrial birds I observed and tallied on eBird at home.  It was another lesson learned by being out in nature observing, another reason to be up early at the beach.

Intruders                                            Interval 4        7:28 am

The precise moment of sunrise was approaching.  I was excited to see the old haymaker finally make its appearance.  I had my camera ready to record the color show.

Then, I heard the sound of footsteps and the murmur of voices behind me.  Turning, I spotted three people, big cameras hung around their necks, heading toward the beach.  They parked themselves right between me and the coming sunrise.  I felt a flash of anger.  Why did they have to stand right in front of my view of the sunrise?

I saw movement to the right along the shore line; a woman walking her golden doodle scaring up the willets and sanderlings and disturbing my view of nature.  My annoyance grew.

Then I had to laugh at myself.  What was I thinking?  This wasn’t my beach.  In fact it was a public beach in the middle of a tourist area. The photographers and the dog walker had just as much right to be here as I did.

Suddenly, I began to perceive things differently.  I heard the rising hum of excitement in the voices of the photographers and sensed their joy as they watched the sun rise.  I saw the synchrony between dog and walker, felt their shared happiness at beginning their day with a walking adventure.  Amazed at how quickly my mood shifted, I began to feel a sense of camaraderie with my new found early morning collaborators.

Here it Comes                                    Interval 5        7:38 am

The sun lifted well and strong above the horizon. For a second it looked like a thermonuclear explosion; incalculably bright, fiery, spreading, expanding.  And then I thought, well, it really is an ongoing nuclear fusion reaction, one distant enough, bright enough and regular enough to sustain life on earth.

With the spreading sunlight hues of colors emerged all around me.  I saw the shadings of brown and white on a pelican that flew in front of me.  I saw the true tan color of the sand and the whiteness of the seafoam that followed each wave’s retreat back to the ocean.  I saw the delicate gray and white plumage of the petite sanderlings scurrying across the sand.  I saw blue sky above me.

I felt that dramatic pop of energy, that shift into a new day of life on earth as the sun, now looking like a layer cake of yellow, orange and red inched above the horizon.  I felt the first gentle rays of sunshine warming my skin, a reassuring, welcoming touch.

It was a symphony of sights and sensations, a moment of breathtaking beauty.  As if on cue, in my mind I heard the Beatles song, Here Comes the Sun; the voices, the words, the melody, the instruments, all celebrating the rising sun.

Abundance                                         Interval 6        7:48 am

White puffy clouds floated above the ocean. A motor boat sped across the waves. A snowy white tern tumbled into the water.  A pelican plunged into the surf with a big splash.  A willet patrolled the sun dappled shoreline in a deliberate dignified manner probing the sand for breakfast morsels.  Sanderlings scurried up and down with the waves.

The ruddy turnstones with their reddish backs, trim white collars, and bright orange legs headed down the beach.  I watched them pick through the sand; their niche on the beach was higher up.

Gulls flew overhead.  More pelicans flew by.  Some were in small flocks; a leader followed by a long precise line, flapping and gliding in synchrony, some in pairs and some flying solo.

It seemed that all the shorebirds were now settling into their daily routine.  As I watched them in all their forms and sizes, inhabiting and prospering in their unique niches, using each section of the shore line from beach, to water’s edge to deep water the word abundance came to mind; the abundance of life, the variety of niches and habitat.  There was room for everyone I thought.

Breakfast                                          

My hour was up.  I packed up my gear and walked back up the beach.  Traversing back over the boardwalk I saw that the coastal dunes were now basked in soft, golden, morning sunlight.

As I crossed the street and entered the gate into the timeshare property, I realized that I was a little bit chilled and a whole lot hungry.  Visions of breakfast came to mind; short thick pieces of bacon frying in a skillet, eggs plopped into sizzling bacon grease, buttered toast smeared with raspberry jam, topped off with a steaming cup of freshly ground, freshly brewed Colombian coffee.

My breakfast would serve as good positive reinforcement for my behavior of getting up early and getting out for a sit spot.  And, I thought, the physical nourishment would resonate with the aesthetic, emotional and spiritual nourishment of watching the sun rise over the North Atlantic Ocean.

This sit spot was conducted at Atlantic Beach, NC on October 31, 2020.  You can read about more sit spots and wander walks on this blog and in my book, The Stillness of the Living Forest:  A Year of Listening and Learning available at Amazon.com and through Shanti Arts Publishing.