Notes From A Beach in Ban Krut, Thailand:

The Light:

Dusk falls so softly and gradually here. Almost imperceptibly the light softens around you. Colors in the sky richen, but are not showy. Gentle blues mix with grey and the soft washes of pinks – which seem so muted your mind isn’t entirely sure they are really there at all. A cut in the range of near hills allows the light to linger a bit longer. The colors shift slightly and then dim.

A star shines through a ethereal gray cloud. Another cloud passes, trading the star for a bright sliver of crescent moon.

You notice the dusk light and the moon and the outline of palm fronds have merged into a photo that might appear on a travel brochure. It doesn’t cheapen the moment but it pulls you away from the scene for a second.

The Air:

A pleasantly warm breeze blows consistently from your left. Not quite a wind, there’s no bite. Sometimes it races to fold around you, other times it slackens to a whisper.

You watch a large bumblebee (or is it a moth?) fight against the breeze just as it picks up. It seems fruitless, the breeze increases again and the creature is blown back. But it jerks to and fro, pushing forward ever so slightly in violent movements. You can sense the struggle from yards away. The sense that it MUST make it upwind somewhere. It progresses a bit further and then becomes an indistinct blot as it pushes on, merging into shadows.

Down the beach a thin line of smoke rises from an as yet stillborn bonfire.

The Sea:

You stand facing the sea. Motionless while the waves break in a diagonal line that repeats forever. The horizon splits your view and catches your attention for a moment. It’s a very solid horizon – it seems somehow more than level, flatter than possible.

You are at eye level with the waves now, it seems like the water should rush down and in and up, but they do not. You stand firm. Each wave crashing against your bare legs pulls some sand from beneath your heels. With each wave you stand a little bit lower, the warm water pulling pulling. It’s pleasant to stand still and feel the ocean come at you and tug away urgently. Each wave pulling pulling.

In the distance a golden Buddha sits atop a hill, glowing just a bit more than the surrounding scene in the soft light. He looks serene even from where you stand. The Buddha patiently faces the sea, always watching.

You return your gaze to the diagonal lines of waves. Rising and retreating forever, now they are a bit darker. You can barely make them out over the inky sea. Some waves make the distance to break around your legs. Warm water collects and pulls and swirls and endlessly moves sand from one spot to another.