-^-for posterity-^-

i have spent a great deal of time this summer near the ocean.  i have not, as would be assumed, frolicked in the frothy waves.

a storm is passing through these parts and it angers the sea.  the gray waves pound the shore relentlessly, they throw themselves at the sand all hours of the day and night.  they never looked enticing to me in the least until they became large and ugly.  when the sea was placid and blue i walked by indifferently.  on an overcast, cool day, my best friend and i jumped in.

as a human being, i was given no skills short of logic and reason to combat the waves.  we do not belong on the shores, we belong near rivers and in the woods.  i stood in the surf getting pounded by the waves.  they would rise up out of the water, turn down towards me and crash over my body.  i would fall, grabbing at my swimming shorts, and tumble against the sand. 

there was something exhilarating about being pounded by the waves.  there's a point where you feel completely out of control when the sea is angry.  the waves push you too and fro and you struggle to keep your feet planted.  the 18 year old lifeguard sitting 100 yards behind you watching women walk by will do nothing if a wave takes you under and holds you there.
 we sat there suffering for some time.  we let the salt and sand punish us.  after a bit, we walked back to the house with the salt crystallizing on our skin and the sand forging its way into different crevices.  we felt miserable but, if not for suffering, how would we ever know beauty?