Just before leaving Newcastle yesterday, I walked down to the beach for a final gaze out over the Pacific Ocean. The sign as I was leaving dry land warned me that the path ahead is never safe, even in calm waters.
This view is beautiful or terrifying, depending on my state of mind on the day. I guess it can be both at the same time. As I was hungover on this particular morning, anxiety overpowered the appreciative side of my brain. I sat next to the sign warning me of the consant danger of the waves and took everything in.
My problem is that I always try to wrap my head around what is not possible to wrap my head around. Life and how we got here, where we are going and what is beyond our universe. The bigger questions. I wish I could settle with not knowing but it doesn’t stop me wanting to know. Staring at this horizon is a window into the infinite. Right there is a view that could potentially go on forever. How astounding is that?! Isn’t it funny that we freak out when looking down from a height but take no interest in the unfathomable drop below earth? It isn’t the immediate threat we face daily, so I guess it makes sense.
Even the huge expanse of the ocean is nothing compared to space. The ocean itself is a depth I struggle to comprehend, enough to trigger some form of anxiety and unease if I was to find myself far from the shore in a small boat. It is an example of nature being something much larger than ourselves, how can we expect to understand when the brains we are equipped with are much smaller than the rocks it throws about with ease? It would be incredible to possess the knowledge of a brain the size of an ocean, what would it know?
There are things we know that we don’t know, I guess that’s a start. And knowing there are things that I don’t know keeps me stimulated, even if it is hard to take in. Although the sky is a window into the infinite, I have to be grateful I have a window to look out of.