Oblivion

This post was written circa August 2018.

I could stare at an ocean for hours…ebbing and flowing, coming and going…

…Most would see this place and think it’s merely a sight on the way to something more exciting. Pigeon Point is about as far from San Francisco as it is from Monterey, CA. Pigeon Point isn’t even a city or recognizable landmark. So why did it hit me so hard? This is a little spot off of Cabrillo highway with a lighthouse…so what?

I’ve been wondering this since I returned back to Colorado – so what, ‘it is just a lighthouse facing the coast, right’? Boiled down, yes, it is. But something about being here for 30 minutes touched me so deeply. Although the lighthouse appeared to be decommissioned, something about its semblance made me feel as if it had a misunderstood past. To someone indifferent, all to be seen is rusting metal laying beneath chipped paint on a hundred-foot tall lighthouse. But when you peel back a layer, much more is to be recognized. Seeing vicious waves consistently hit the jagged, amber rocks is a beautiful sight. It fascinates me to witness how entities so powerful can be both overwhelming yet controlled and calm.

When I see the Pigeon Point lighthouse, I see a beacon of hope. Yes, I realize that a giant, linear figure on the edge of the coast is bound to be seen as a literal beacon. This lighthouse stood tall in the face of years and years of erosion and torment by Mother Nature (it was built in 1876 so, yes, it has withstood over 140 years of weathering). This relatively insignificant location has endured. The kiwi-green moss and rosy red vegetation illuminate the moody, dark hues of the sea. When I see the vegetation interacting with the rocks and life beneath the surface I feel connected to something bigger.

Smelling scents from miles and miles away, seeing out into the dynamic water, and hearing waves crash forever is why I connect to the idea of infinity. Being able to take in moments and extend them to a larger scale makes memories so valuable to me. Although I was only at Pigeon Point briefly, this was a place that made me feel life. Life in the world, life in people, and life in myself. Life so saturated with energy and color. Life so linked yet diverse.

I think these vivid feelings are why I love taking landscape photos so much. No matter where I go, I feel something bigger than myself – in the trees, in the breeze, in the water, in the sky. Life is simpler in nature. It asks nothing of humans yet we marvel in its presence. Nature operates independently but gives to us more than we could ever imagine. It’s strange to find comfort in mysterious ways of the world but we all do, more or less.

When I dream, I don’t fear water. Yeah, I could drown without the ocean skipping a beat. If I were to fall in, I imagine peaceful oblivion. This is why I don’t fear the water. I embrace it. I am no surfer or aquatic creature but learning how to be one with the ocean changes a person. Whether it’s the menacing 10 foot waves in Paia, HI or the melancholy ways of Seattle waters, being in the ocean is a time of chaotic peace.

I always wonder what is out there.

And that wonder keeps me going.