it's just spheres and orbits, right?

Sunset on the Pacific.  That's me in on the right side. 

     Every once in a while, you feel guilty for experiencing things that are just so beautiful.  Like a couple nights ago, when I got to see the sunset on the beach.  
     I wasn't really gonna write about it, but we prayed Vespers and the Responsory was "Tell all the nations how glorious God is.  Make known his wonders to every people."  
     Fine.  I'll write about it.  

     First, the fear.  A lot of fears accompanied me before arriving.  What if it's cloudy?  What if we don't make it in time?  What if it's not actually that beautiful?  
     Well, the fear about time was pretty well founded.  We were racing up the coast, trying to find a beach.  We could see the sunset, but we wanted to get out and go to the water and Highway 101 just wouldn't give us any good turnoffs.  We were chasing the sunset. 
     But then we saw it.  Emerged from a tunnel and saw Beachpoint Lane, a tiny road that ran perpendicular to the coast just south of Cannon Beach.  We took the turn with screeching tires and parked by the road.  A couple of beers in the backpack, and off we go.  30 min to sunset, and we walk over the hill.  
     One of my fondest professors from college talked about an argument he had as a boy.  He watched the sun set over the ocean and wanted to call the colors "seraphic".  His friend took offense at the term.
     I certainly don't.  I would definitely favor seraphic.  Mainly because the colors sang in the way I'd imagine angels sing.  Beautiful in a terrifying sort of way, and one simply cannot remove one's gaze.  A couple times, with tears in my eyes, I asked the vista if it would be ok if I turned away.  
     (The answer, by the way, was a resounding no.)

     All fears proving irrational, I was overwhelmed by Peace.  It was spectacular.  I simply stared at the sun's expiration and everything else ceased.  I heard no thoughts, only the crashing of the waves.  
     (By the way, have you ever taken a bit of time to really listen to the waves?  There are several levels of sound.  There's this base level of roar that is more felt in the pit of the chest than is actually heard.  This low murmur suggests that the the sand is taking a beating much more fearsome than you first thought.  Then there's this middle level of waves crashing 40 feet off the coast, the water negotiating with itself about who gets to assault the shore first.  Finally, there's the light whisper of the tide as the flattened sheets of foam calmly tiptoe up the bare sand towards your feet.  I'm amazed at this mostly because the sound made by 200 people talking at once [like an audience waiting for a play or speech to start] is almost identical to the waves.) 
     Then, to my right I heard fireworks.  It was the 3rd of July, and 2 miles north the Cannon Beach Sandcastle Competition was celebrating its completion.  Thousands of dollars of fireworks exploded to my right, each burst looking to be about the size of a golf ball held at arm's length. 
     But I didn't care.  The show of gunpowder and explosives was absolutely pitiful when compared to the horizon that was burning up in every seraphic shade between purple, red, orange, and yellow.  I laughed at how puny and insignificant the explosions were when placed next to this masterpiece. 
     It made me feel a little like prayer was futile.  Pitiful offerings made to the Fullness of Wonder.  I laughed at this thought, and decided I would make my own offering.  I pulled the pack of Marlboro's from my pocket and burned a cigarette.  An offering of incense to this Majesty I so unfairly stumbled upon.  
     Tears came to my eyes.  This must be what heaven is like.  
     And still, the colors wouldn't let me go.

     Now that I've seen the sun rise over the Atlantic and set over the Pacific, I can in good conscience say that I've seen all of America.  I've made it from one bookend of the country to the other.  Sure, there are many books on the shelf that I have yet to pull out--many pages left to read.  But I've traced my finger from one binding to another, moving all the way from left to right, and in an odd way this feels like the first victory towards conquering the bookshelf.  

     Eventually, the sun set far enough that the colors faded to black, and I was released from the beach.  We drove the rest of the way to the house where we were staying.  A little cabin one block from the beach.  We arrived in the cabin and I realized something.  The whole back of the cabin was windows.  It was pitch black, but I knew that something in the blackness was worth seeing.  Why else would you build a whole wall of windows?  So I chose to sleep on the couch right in front of the windows.
     And boy was I right.  
     I awoke at 5:30.   A handsome beam of light tickled my eyelids and coaxed me from sleep.  I opened my eyes very slowly.  My eyelids barely had time to move out of the way of the surge of tears.  
     It was beautiful.  Behind the cabin was a large lake, and a thick fog hugged the motionless water.  The fog moved slowly across the surface at the same speed that cars move when you see them through an airplane window.  The opposite bank was colored with tall, old trees.  Through the mist, I could see the trees mirrored perfectly in the water.  
     At a certain point, the trees parted, and here is where the sun chose to rise.  It was almost like terrestrial subjects making way for their celestial king.  The light beams shot through the openings in the branches and landed on the lake's surface.  The mist, doing its part, accented the crepuscular rays and gave them such fullness that one could almost grab hold of them.  
     And I hadn't even moved from my bed yet.  
     I snapped a quick picture and then went outside to say Lauds.  And to me the Prophet whispered, "For thus says the Lord, the creator of the heavens, who is God, the designer and maker of the earth, who established it, not creating it to be a waste, but designing it to be lived in: I am the Lord, and there is no other."
     No kidding.  

The view when I woke up.  Literally, I took the picture while laying in bed.