The past couple of weeks, I’ve been staying in a rustic summer home along the coast of Maine, on the St. George Peninsula. It’s lovely part of the coast, both developed (great restaurants, movie theatres, etc…), but still remote and isolated.
This morning, I went for a walk along the backshore, a rugged, undeveloped coast along the open water. The shore is covered with large boulders and a thick tree line. There was a light fog across the water, though on a clear day the horizon seems infinite.
The rocks along the coast are randomly dispersed, and at times the hike is difficult.
I sat down on a large rock, close to the water. The water beat against the rock just below my feet. I stared out over the horizon. For an instant, I was aware that I all I know of time has no significance, is irrelevant. Everything about my life lost weight, and I was lost in the foggy, infinite horizon.
Smaller, and yet I felt more alive.