Photo taken at Capitola, California the day after a big storm when the sun was going down. The hilly area off in the distance is the Monterey Peninsula, which, due to the weather, appears to be much closer than it is. Though I am not the woman in the picture, (since I was the photographer) I look at this picture and see me. I see the longing I once had during a very dark time in my life.
See how she has her arms wrapped to her body. Longing. She's not entirely hopeless quite yet. She's still standing. Some others nearby do not seem to be even aware of her, or the incredible vision just over their shoulders. I look at the surfers as those who have jumped right into the waters of life, and are living it fully.
Just a little while ago it was raining, the daytime sky was dark, like her. The rain stopped and there was but a hope of sunlight, that is when she walked out there onto the rocks. This picture is the moment when the world rejoices in the return of the sun. She just stands there longing and hurting and suddenly, there it is, the clouds parting enough and color seeping into her heart. I like to think it is this moment captured when the inspiration enters in the next breath and the spirit is blessed. Something primeval comes alive in me at times like this, and water always has a lot to do with it.
"Watch the waves, and the more you watch, the more you will able to see the beauty of them. The more you watch, the more the subtle nuances of thought will become clear to you. And it is beautiful - but you remain the witness. You remain on the beach, You sit on the beach, or lie down in the sun, and just let the ocean do it's own work - you don't interfere.
If you don't interfere, by and by, by and by, the ocean doesn't affect you. It goes on roaring all around, but it doesn't penetrate you. It is beautiful in and of itself, but it is separate, a distance exists. That distance is real meditation, a real silence. "
From: Discourses on Tilopa's Song of Mahamudra
