Pacific Ocean, from “Pacifico” Spanish for calm is often a good description of these waters. The Islands in the strait provide the beach protection from the full force of the open ocean.
There are always lots of crows. Big, fat ass aggressive beach crows. Often you will see a murder of crows around an eagle. Twenty thirty crows circling the eagle and making as much noise as they can. But not coming too close.
breaker, bending, billow, breaker, coil, comber, crest, crush, curl, curlicue, current, drift, flood, foam, ground swell, gush, heave, influx, loop, movement, outbreak, rash, ridge, ripple, rippling, rocking, roll, roller, rush, scroll, surge, sweep, swell, tide, undulation, uprising, upsurge, whitecap. Wave
The refracted property of water ensures that when we look in deep we see shallow. When we gaze down searching for some shadowy profundity below the surface what usually comes back to us is merely us. Jonathan Raban, A Passage to Juneau
Like as the wave to the pebbled shore, So do our moments hasten to their end, Each changing place with that which has gone before. William Shakespeare, Sonnet 60
Your parents die, and you and your siblings grow older, and your kids grow up and they don’t need you any more. And what do you hold onto? Is it our religion? Spirituality? Is it money? Is it art? Alec Baldwin, Globe and Mail Newspaper Interview, Saturday January 3, 2004
In the life of a man, his time is but a moment his being an incessant flux, his senses a dim rushlight, his body a prey of worms, his soul an unquiet eddy, his fortune dark, and his fame doubtfull. Marcus Aurelius, Meditations
In short all that is of the body is as coursing waters, all that is of the soul as dreams and vapours; life a warfare, a brief sojourning in an alien land; and after repute, oblivion. Marcus Aurelius, Meditations
Loss is nothing but change, and change is nature’s delight. Marcus Aurelius, Meditations
A little while and I will be gone from among you, whither I cannot tell. From nowhere we came, into nowhere we go. What is life? It is a flash of a firefly in the night. It is a breath of a buffalo in the winter time. It is as the little shadow that runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset. The Indian leader Crowfoot’s dying words, overlooking the Bow River in Southern Alberta, April 25, 1890