Thinking back, we remember that as children a day seemed to last for a long time, more like the way we experielnce a month now. A year was so long there was no end to it. Gradually our perception changed. Our preoccupations, concepts, and attachments grew day by day. Now the open space is no longer there in our minds. ..We run around at full speed, and crowd our minds with a houseful of thoughts, concepts, and emotions. When our minds are calm, we feel every minute of time, but if our minds chases after everything going on around us, we feel that the day has ended before it has even begun…
Tulku Thondup
Healing Meditations
What splendid, mesmerizing sights I often behold in the skies at Folly Beach, such as massive cumulus clouds during summer and early Fall. They sail across the sky from horizon to horizon in fantastic shapes and striations of color and design, crowding the vastness of this oceanic space in all directions. Infinitely complex and beautiful. Changing by the second. If we are mindful and look.
But the other evening, as is so often the case, I was distracted. I settled in my chair with my book bag and camera at the ready. On the alert for things to observe and photograph. The clouds began to light up with purple and pink striations at sunset. I took pictures from my chair, turning to the north. I turned to the south and phographed the sky 180 degrees away. A wholly different mood. A new world.
I watched people going by. I looked for the pelicans skimming over the water. I thought about the restless and disturbing preoccupations and yearnings my mind has been filled with for days and weeks as political turmoil continues day after day in the U.S. I listenend intently to the sounds of the surf for wisdom and inspiration.
Then, I picked up my book to try to calm my distractions with deep and purposeful thought. The subtitle: “Emotions, consciousness, and the secret of the self.” What more could I ask for in a book? Maybe the secret of life itself?
I had read no more than a few paragraphs, when I glanced up the beach to my left. There I saw a curious sight. A young man in flowing white shirt was approaching. About 50 yards from where I sat, he spread a mat on the sand and sat cross-legged on the hard surface of the beach, hands in front of him. He stared out to sea. Night was approaching, but there was still enough light to see what was happening.
But gradually, the veil of darkness began to descend in earnest. This is the time of day I treasure. Everything is winding down. The day is ending. The shadows and darkness hide the harsh realities of bright daylight. Where did the day begin? What happened? Have I any clue?
This youth remained seated in that one position for around 30 minutes. I have never seen such concentration. One rarely witnesses anyone meditating on the beach. I have seen people doing Tai Chi there. But this deliberate meditative approach…. No, that was quite a novel sight.
At the same time he was meditating, I was busy thinking this and that, looking here and there, trying to read my book and acquiring in the process a long string of impressions and mixed up thoughts — a veritable salad and gumbo of jumbled notions and ideas, impressions and vague ponderings. I think this is why I now feel no concept of time. Life is full of so many needs and preoccupations, random thoughts and worries that to savor and ponder meaningfully and at length any one thought, desire, or emotion seems like the most far-fetched, but sought-after impossibility
But that young man meditating — What was he thinking? Was there a sense of being and nothingness as he listened to the ceaseless sounds of the surf and felt the cool rush of the sea breeze that caressed me at the same time? I was trying to put myself in his position and extrapolate from what little I know about true meditation. I’ve read a lot here and there, but I am no practictioner of the meditative arts.
I admired and envied his calm. His ability to concentrate. People occasionally passed in front of him. He didn’t seem concerned or perturbed. I, in contrast, often get annoyed when people pass too close to where I am sitting on the beach and invade my zone of personal “space.” What nerve! Leave me alone. Have some respect for my “space.” The fact that I am even concerned about something so trivial is in itself concerning to me.
But what about “mental space?” Maybe we should try to actually empty our minds instead of filling them up constantly at one fountain of knowledge and wisdom after another. In abundance, the sweet water loses its taste and ability to quench one’s thirst.
About a quarter to 9, just as night was really settling over the beach, another curious phenomenon, exceedingly aggravating and annoying. I label it “The Invasion of the Flashlight People. ” These are groups of beachgoers who like to come out after dark and walk around shining their flashlights into the sand and water and air like little laser beams, pretending they can then see where they are going thus becoming empowered by these feeble little shafts of light. The beach is seldom that dark. There is always some kind of illumination. Starlight, moonlight. But the Flashlight People mill around aimlessly and shine their flashlights my way on occasion. Light beams bounce all over the place. The Flashlight People remind me of grounded fireflies. Out of their element. It’s about that time I usually pack up and leave.
The beach is no longer a quiet, darkening, magical place. The mood is broken.
I saw the Flashlight People approach the mediating youth. He roused himself from his other state of mind, picked up his mat, and departed into the night. Slowly, deliberately.
I sat back in my chair. The ocean air was sweet and faintly salty. It had sailed across the Atlantic on vast streams and currents from North Africa. It was warm and moist.
Then it was my turn to leave.
Written August 7, 2002
Update:
January 6, 2026
One night recently, I innocently, and with deeper understanding, became for a brief time one of “The Flashlight People.” I had gotten to the beach too late to take pictures in daylight or even right after sunset.
About 8 pm after supper that night at my brother’s place, I walked out to a very dark beach, guided by the sound of waves in the distance. I turned on the rather feeble flashlight on my phone and was able to walk along the beach taking some photos of the moon’s reflection on the surface and shore where only modest waves were breaking. Still, it was kind of nice being out there, mindful of the opposing dichotomy of light and dark. We spend so much of our lives in the dark, so to speak, until those moments, hours or days when we see the light for what it actually is and means.
A final note: I just recently purchased a rather powerful LED flashlight and can’t wait to walk on a particularly night-blackened beach and see what I normally take for granted in a wholly new light.
I have long since forgiven those Flashlight People from years ago because soon I will be out walking on the beach after dark myself, guided by a strong beam of light and the sounds of the surf, so near at hand I could easily walk out into it. Maybe there will be some surprises. We’ll see.
Folly Beach sunset and at night
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