Wanderlust in the Time of Coronavirus (A GeoEx eBook)

Wanderlust in the Time of Coronavirus

Lost & Found: A Pilgrimage to Point Reyes

that had once defined and inspired me: “He was alone. He was unheeded, happy, and near to the wild heart of life. He was alone and young and wilful and wildhearted, alone amid a waste of wild air and brackish waters and the seaharvest of shells and tangle and veiled grey sunlight.” In my teenage years, those poetic words had graced a poster on my bedroom wall, conjuring adventure’s exhilarating call; now they called to me again on this Pacific strand, reminding me that possibility thrives throughout the land. There is still so much to be excited about, so much to be grateful for. There are unimaginable adventures still to come, and wonders on every shore. Instead of feeling powerless, I should focus on what I can control: celebrate the riches close at hand, cultivate the yearning soul. The pilgrim’s path is sometimes hard, and obstacles abound. But follow the compass of your heart, and your feet will map the ground. I squished my toes into the sand, raised my eyes to the deep blue sky. As it always had and always would, the world spun harmoniously by. I thought of my disorientation at Point Reyes Station, and the path became clear to me: My destination all along had been this oceanside seat. I opened my arms to hug it all: the sun, sand, breeze, and sea. I hugged the teen who dreamed of life; I hugged the modern me. The world reduced to this one truth, that I had to live to teach: I had to lose myself to become complete, in the wild heart of North Beach.

An eight-foot-long log had washed up on the beach and it made the perfect place to sit and unwind. I took off my shoes and socks, and slowly abandoned myself to the scene: the crash of the waves on the sand, the suddenly blue sky overhead—the sun had just serendipitously emerged—and the brush of the wind from the sea. Sun, sand, ocean, breeze: a swatch of seaside ease. I returned to my journal: It feels wonderful to be out here on the edge of the continent, looking at the infinite sea, with Hawaii and Japan somewhere beyond the horizon’s curve. Like this morning’s gray clouds, all the baggage and detritus of everyday life is getting blown away by the sea-breeze, and the endless expanse of the ocean puts everything in perspective, makes it all feel more manageable somehow. It’s really comforting, liberating, solacing, and healing to be here. There’s a meditative quality to the sound of the waves and the wind. Somehow this landscape feels loving, transporting. My soul feels lifted like a kite, soaring up into the deep blue sky. I sat on that log in North Beach, listening to the waves, watching their swell, feeling the sun and the sand and the breeze, and I realized that I had become disconnected, disoriented, over the past few weeks. After the epiphanic high of Muir Woods, I had gotten mired in a slough of despair. Too many depressing headlines, too much bad news—I had lost my way out there. I opened my journal again, and penned: I need to let go of everything I can’t control. I need to focus on the world right around. Now, here, I need to erase the shell that separates me from this place. I need to embrace the wild wisdom that fills this space. . . . I surrender myself to the infinitude of the sea. I embrace the sea in the wild heart of me. I wrote those words, and something deep inside me stirred, a promise and a dream. I recalled a passage from James Joyce,

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