A car of two females stops. They get out - one owns a camera, a point-and-shoot. They watch the elk for a minute, the one with the camera tells her friend she will wait until "he is done" taking his photo. Mark carries on, composing, adjusting his camera, clicking the shutter. She exasperatedly walks to the other side of where he is, takes a few photos, returns to her friend. She is bubbling with her success. They get back in the car, drive off.
Mark is still taking photos, I am listening to the ancient motion of the waves crashing, the silence of the elk grazing, as the rest of the world buzzes and zips by.
What we forget is that our joy lies in not obtaining more, not thinking, "When I have the money to get that new car, house, cd player....", but in paying attention to what is around us. The primal, the ancient - if we slow down long enough for nature's pull, the timelessness, the cosmic peace that is our birthright, will bring us the fulfillment we have worked so long and hard for.
We are the noisemakers, the rattlers. Every few minutes a truck flies
by, lifting dust and pebbles and twigs, creating a ruckus for all that
is silent or anciently still - between ocean and cliff and rock.