The Oregon Coast

 I visited the Oregon Coast, setting foot and eyes on the Pacific Ocean for the first time in my life. The majestic grandeur was breath taking. I felt small and insignificant against its expanse.

Only God could create a place of beauty such as this. Tall pine sentinels stretched a green canopy almost to the water's edge. Craggy peaks jutted skyward from the bowels of the ocean floor. Their jagged hulks were alive with the din of thousands of bellowing sea lions & harbor seals who have made the jewel-like islands home. The surf crashed against rocks near the shoreline, bringing the symphonic reverberations to a crescendo that brought chills down my spine.

I stood, sea spray caressing my face.  The fog lay heavy in silent blankets.   I walked down a winding path along the cliff edge, careful to place one foot in front of the other while avoiding the slippery spots that spattered the trail.  

There was this earthy silence broken only by the sound of seal and gull that mingled with the surf that boiled and rose like foam along the shoreline.

Suddenly, as I walked, barefoot along the beach a brilliant blue glint caught my eye as the surf rolled out.  I walked to the object--curious.  There, lying limply in the sand, was an indigo-colored dragonfly whose body glistened as if made of an iridescent metal.  It had died only moments before and its still brilliant body had been deposited upon the beach as if some hand had reached from the surf and laid it gently there.  

I stared at its fragile body.  It was a sign...a harbinger of the life/death/life cycle that all living things must embrace.  There is a beauty, even in death.  

I scooped it into a nearby shell, covering it with another and placed it in my pocket.  That shell and its contents followed me all the way to South Carolina and is with me still, a reminder of the duality of the sea, and the gift of life.