Footprints in the Sand

Footprints in the Sand

There’s a well-worn expression amongst those who live on the islands, and those that dream about living on them. It’s the idea that “Life’s a Beach,” a life of sun, sand, ocean, warm weather, mai tais and the good life. After living on Maui for many years, I prefer to turn it around from “Life’s a Beach” to “Beach is Life.”

I go to the beach and get in the ocean just about every day of my life. it’s become a daily ritual for me, a constant against which I can measure my own moods, my health, my openness to life, my own mortality.

Like my own moods, the beach itself and the weather are endlessly changing. At times the sand is soft and firm underneath my feet making me want to run; at other times it is coarse and loose, making walking difficult. There are winter days when the water feels freezing and summer days when the temperature goes up to 84 degrees, like a warm bathtub. There are dramatic winter storms where I watch countless tons of sand being washed out to sea, exposing black lava rock underneath. Weeks or months later the sand gradually moves back in, covering up the rock. The waves are sometimes benign and gentle, until a storm far out to see brings in enormous waves that break on the shore with terrifying power. And the skies. Oh, the skies. How they change, from deep cerulean blue skies with fluffy cumulonimbus clouds floating overhead, to dark, stormy skies that appear to portend the end of the world. And there’s always the amazing sea life, from big honus, or turtles, poking their heads above water, to rare pods of dolphins swimming by, and in winter months, the magic and mystery of whales breaching offshore.

I witness all these sights and more on my daily beach walks. The constant changes reflect the changes of my own inner state. I remember the honeymoon period of first being on Maui many years ago, where everything was new and miraculous and I was filled with love for the whole world; more recently there was a long period when I was depressed and disempowered, and all I saw around me was a reflection of my own inner gloom. And on some days I find myself momentarily oblivious to the beauty around me, until I get jolted back to reality. Then there are other times of being filled with immense gratitude and a sense of oneness with my surroundings.

What interests me as much as sand and ocean and sky is the constant ebb and flow of other beach goers. Each beach on the island has its own personality and its own set of regulars. On Maui’s North Shore, where the ocean is consistently rough, and the sand coarse, the people who walk the beach tend to have the same wild nature. I’ve come to recognize them over the years, the solitary people who can be seen in their solitary strolls in all kinds of weather. I know some by name, some by reputation, some by their appearance. There’s Harold Bloomfield, the author, who I wave to when I pass; there’s a guy named Lee, with a handle-bar moustache, who always has the same hat and sunglasses on, and can barely manage a smile of recognition. One person, who I’ve passed on the beach for the past ten years, always seems to have a troubled energy about him. I later found out that he and his wife were in the Twin Towers and he was pulled out from the rubble. His wife was not. Another attractive woman in her thirties walks the beach every day. She has a deformity in her leg and limps slightly as she walks. I smile and wave to her, aware of the loneliness that seems to emanate from her.

On the South Side of Maui, the beach goers are dramatically different. I spent over a year walking mile-long Keawakapu Beach every day. It’s been voted one of the most beautiful beaches in the world. Inevitably I would find my friend Tom, camped out under his old Tommy Bahama beach umbrella, reading on his Kindle, and chat with him for a while. Other regulars include Michelle, an enthusiastic New Ager, who likes to quote A Course in Miracles, Dennis, a photographer, who walks his little dog up and down the beach several times a day, and JJ, a tanned Brazilian in his seventies, who loves to pontificate about old films. Although I seldom visit this beach any more, I know that if I go back, they’ll be there. That’s comforting.

Another beach I’ve walked on literally hundreds of times is Kamaole 1, a beautiful stretch of fine-grained sand in Kihei. I usually walk it with my friend Susan and our dog Kamalani, an Australian Shepherd. Time and time again we are stopped by curious tourists, asking, “What kind of dog is he?” “He’s so cute!” “Can I pet him?” Kamalani is an emissary of love, willingly offering himself up to be petted, and leaving behind happy people with big smiles on their faces. This is where I see the tourists, freshly arrived from the mainland and staying in nearby condos. They come down to the beach like Nepalese Sherpa’s, loaded down with beach chairs, umbrellas, coolers, boogies boards, noodles, snorkels and fins, and stand up paddleboards. They roast under the hot sun, dip in the ocean, and yell in delight as they play in the waves. How extraordinary to live in a place where everyone is smiling.

There are regulars at this beach too. Rene, a friendly lady with short grey hair and a colorful one-piece bathing suit, struts up and down Kam 1 beach 4 or 5 times a day, waving to friends she knows, and stopping for chats with others. “I’m a real busy body,” she laughs. Gary is a tall, solid guy in his fifties, who comes down to Kam 1 five days a week, straps a 9 inch hunting knife to his leg, and goes far out in the ocean to swim the backstroke for 1 ½ miles. What a powerhouse. He’s been doing this for thirty-some years. “Well, my knees are not good, and I’m having problems with my hip, but I’m doing okay,” he says. Another elderly couple comes down; he’s in his eighties, slim, with a white beard and white hair. He wears old style Speedo swimsuit, and does a leisurely swim, while his wife, having had a stroke, moves slowly along with her walker. Every so often Ram Dass, a world-renowned spiritual teacher, shows up for his swims. [See my blog “Oh Buoy, Oh Buoy, Oh Buoy.”]

At the end of Kamaole 1 Beach, it becomes Charley Young Beach. On the weekend locals come down and set up their fishing poles and their canopy party tents where they hang out and “talk story” all day. Just up the bluff my good friend Dale, a world-renowned artist, creates his extraordinary sculptures in what must be one of the most beautiful spots in the world.

 Photo by Chris Archer

As I pass these familiar faces, and others, I notice the footprints they leave behind. In an hour, a day, or in the blink of a moment, the footprints will be gone, including my own. Not a trace remaining of our presence. At times I’m aware of those I’ve walked the beach with who are no longer alive: my wife Linda, who died five years ago, my dog Lukey, who was a constant companion on my walks. They all left their footprints in the sand at one point. And then there are those who have just disappeared, either back to the mainland, or another part of the island. The beach doesn’t seem to care. There is no trace left behind of the living or the dead. We’re all like ghosts passing through.

It makes me think of Carl Sagan’s comment that there are more stars in the universe than there are grains of sand on all the beaches on earth. I pick up a handful of sand and let it sift through my fingers. I look at the beach stretching out before me, and try to imagine all the sand on this beach. Then I try to imagine all the sand on all the beaches of the world. That’s a hell of a lot of grains of sand. That’s a hell of a lot of stars. And I’m little more than one grain of sand. But then I recall that a single grain of sand has more atoms than all the stars in the universe. It’s both humbling and freeing.

There are 5 to 10 times more stars in the known Universe than there are grains of sand on all the world’s beaches, but a single grain of sand has more atoms than there are stars in the known universe.

See Fraser Cain in Universe Today: http://www.universetoday.com/106725/are-there-more-grains-of-sand-than-stars/