I'm not much of a Carmelite. But since I've been back from that quick trip to California, I've found myself reflecting on the couple of hours we spent on the beach there more than practically any other experience we had.
And there were some remarkable, even wonderful, experiences during the whole trip.
So what was it about the beach at Carmel -- as opposed to say the beach at Pacific Grove or the entire California coastline from Monterey south -- that has stuck with me?
Was it the fact that I sat zazen on a driftwood log for close to an hour while we were there?
No, more than that.
I'd never been to that beach, never even really knew it was there. Been once in Carmel so long ago now, I have no memory of it (so many memories lost.) This time, many memories, every one of them good. Well, almost. There was an exception which I may get to.
The beach was not crowded. The sky was partly cloudy but sunny and warm enough. There was little wind. The sand was soft and welcoming.
Around us was so much money the soul ached. Where did it come from? What was being done with it?
Above and behind me was a vast stone mansion on the cliff. Why?
But it wasn't the only one. There were mansions beyond mansions. Wisdom where?
Yet on the beach, it hardly mattered. The sand, sea and sky were more than sufficient and complete in themselves.
I sat zazen on a driftwood log. Nothing else quite like it.
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