West of West

There’s something so comforting and also awe-inspiring about the Pacific Ocean.

Catherine Abbey Hodges wrote a wonderful poem called “Couch on the Beach,” which starts with her describing how “someone dragged a hide-a-bed” onto the sand.

“I recognize the impulse, the urge to reach the furthest edge,

west of west, press up so close and hard to beauty that it surges in, then sweeps me new and desolate, then enters me again.”

I don’t want to post her work without permission, but you can read it in full here, and if you like it you should buy her book, Instead of Sadness. My copy is at home in Taos. 🙂

Ducks crossing at sunrise.

It feels like that’s what I’m doing out here in San Diego – getting swept new and desolate. A reset, a fresh start, a clean slate, all those words that signify a new beginning. Sam is here playing on the beach, but I’m pushing myself west of west, feeling that edge and letting it carve me clean.

This is what I’m going for every time I travel, I suppose, but here, tucked in next to the biggest living thing on the planet, it seems even more profound.

What’s your west of west? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

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