Asilomar State Beach, Pacific Grove, Califonia


It was all sun and storm on the beach. Which one would win didn’t seem to matter as I walked along the coast with the constant crashing of waves and its mist-filled breeze whipping in from the sea. There’s no use in fighting the weather. The sun teased, drifting in and out, and rain threatened with drips and spatters. “The best thing to do when it is raining is to let it rain.” — Henry Longfellow. Out of pure fatigue, I let go of the struggle. The last thing I needed was more anger and resentment. I wish it’d come from self-determination, but I let go out of weariness. 

The rain began to fall, and a chill worked through my coat, but the seagulls didn’t miss a beat. I’m not giving up, I thought, but I’m letting go, not surrendering but walking away, laying down all swords, and making peace with the weather. And the sun filtered through the clouds in bits and tatters, lending me the idea that there might be a rainbow. I’m wet and soggy, but I don’t mind small changes and healing by a thousand stitches.