Perhaps the only place in the world where you can be in the presence of such violent fury, can you still be at peace. Perhaps the only place in the world where you can feel such unrepentant anger, can you feel the serenity in the air. Perhaps that’s why I keep coming back. From the moment I moved to the Bay, the Pacific has had a hold on me. Three years to the day later, it has not let go.
There are other beaches like it, but I find the accessibility to Tennessee Valley Beach welcoming, only a two mile hike from the trailhead with only slight inclines and declines, and ten minute drive from my home. It’s the perfect place to paint and to write.
I sit here on slippery, craggy rocks, mere feet from the onrush of waves that relentlessly come closer and closer. When Faulkner wrote The Sound and the Fury, surely he must have been sitting at this very spot, or at the least imagined himself here. Either Shakespeare or the Pacific no doubt gave him inspiration for his stream-of-consciousness epic prose, set in the South but perhaps the sentiment borne of the West Coast. Any moment now, I could get engulfed, attacked by waves that are quite obviously toying with me.
The skies are filled with grey here, there, and everywhere, clouds dominating the sparse blue fighting its way out the cell. Nevertheless, it’s still quite beautiful. The lack of blue and yellow and orange are made up by the fact the various shades of brown on the beach and the rocks surrounding us, as well as the green dotting the hills, make for an interesting personality to this particular afternoon.
The air is so crisp, and so clean. I can taste the briny smell of salt and the indelible scent of the sea. It fills me with power and vigor; and I know that I can do anything. What a way to commemorate and say goodbye to the past year.
The best, most powerful waves come when I am not filming. I’ve always suspected they had an intuition all their own; and they knew when the paparazzi is near. The ocean would only flex its muscles when it wanted to, not at my beck and call. With that said, the waves are getting ever closer; and while there is no element of danger, I am at the moment trapped under an opening made by a millenia of the waves beating against the rocks. My thoughts echo against its walls much like the sound and the fury before me.
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ALWAYS BE EPIC.