News Updates from The Calhoun Chronicle

Lisa Minney is in Virginia on family business. This column was originally published in The Calhoun Chronicle in 2004.

When I was 22, while on a trip to Florida, a massive storm front came in from over the ocean, spreading lightning through dark clouds that spread from horizon to horizon. The sky was as black as night, and bolts of lightning fractured the darkness as they spread from the ocean sky to invade the land. The water was violent, and the frothy waves clawed desperately at the beach.

I strolled to the water’s edge to view the far-reaching ocean one last time. Drawn by the awesome power of the ocean storm, I spread my arms wide in the whipping wind, and closed my eyes. In my mind, I opened myself to the influence of the elements around me and tried to allow this amazing natural power filter through me.

Many times I have tried to explain the intensity of the moment. I have described how the hair on my arm stood on end, and the lashing, tumultuous wind that surrounded me, but I can never share the experience in words without limiting the boundless natural power to the small, tight meanings of our human language. When I am close to the ocean, I feel close to God.

In comparison to the storm’s power, I was no more consequential than a speck of sand. The ocean roared and the wind growled, and the storm thundered and bellowed. I was minuscule, a fleck of dust in the world. My worries, my dreams–all temporary and brief in a timeline that lasts forever and beyond. I was moved, and when the weight of my desires and worries left me, I felt lifted, and light. I swear to this day, my feet left the ground.

That moment has remained a vivid and inspiring memory for me for 14 years. I have returned to the beach several times since then, always taking a moment to stand at the ocean’s edge, and to feel her power and be humbled. Just as I have learned about the ocean on these visits, I have also learned about myself.

Fourteen years ago, I allowed the storm to laugh at my concerns about college, and waiting tables and rolling change to pay rent. Eight years ago, the ocean played with grief and regret I was carrying after a friend’s death. Six years ago, on vacation from my “good job,” the ocean scoffed at my lamentations about work, and tossed work related stresses to the wind like dandelion seeds. A little over a year ago, on our honeymoon, the ocean yawned at our celebrations, and simply caressed us with warm breezes as we walked hand in hand along her shore to collect sea shells.

This past week, I visited with the ocean again. In my mind, I like to think she remembered me.

“You again?”

“ Hello Ocean,” I said.

“Now what? I am busy you know.”

“Well, I never have enough money.”

“That again? We’ve been through this.”

“I know, but . . .”

“Where are your values? Do you need, or want?”

“I have what I need, so I guess I want.”

“Then you value the wrong things.” And the ocean sighed, drawing my wants away from me in the waves. “What else?”

“Well, I have several issues–all relating to politics.”

“Politics!” She laughed. “As pointless as money! Why do you humans choose to punish yourselves with these silly games?”

“We want to improve our community, our quality of life,” I said. “We want better things.”

“Want, want, want,” she said. “You want to change the world. The world would be just fine, if people had left it alone.” She continued, “if you want a better quality of life, you must be willing to strive for a life of quality. This does not require a change in the world, it requires a change in you. If you want more, you will always want more. If want improvement, improve yourself; then you will grow, and your life will grow, and you will have happiness, not just ‘more’.”

She sighed again, “It’s always the same thing with you, little person. Your wants become needs.”

I looked toward the skyline where the ocean meets the sky, thinking. “Wants and needs,” she whispered, and a frolicking wave trickled up on the sand to touch the toes of my shoes. “Change comes from within.”

I closed my eyes, and spread my arms wide, and let the message of the ocean swirl around me. I thought long and hard about the things I want, and how those things had overshadowed the needs in my life. As I meditated, “wants” separated from “needs” and were washed out to sea.

Outdoing others is a want. I only need to improve on myself. I let the ocean take that “want” from me.

Frustrations with political malfeasance, ignorance and manipulation? My need for patience forces me to want to slap some sense into some people, but I let go of that “want” which leaves more room for me to address my “need.” Patience will allow room for discussion, education, and learning.

When the wants were all gone, I was able to recognize my needs. I need my family. I need my health and exercise. I need to improve on patience, time management, and renew my faith. I need to work with others, and not just want them to work with me.

As a community we need a new town hall. We need to make sound decisions about the way we try to control the power of our river. We need to protect the rights of our children. We need elected officials who are willing to put aside personal wants in order to provide for the needs for the community. We need to work on ourselves to improve the way we live and grow together.

I enjoyed my visit with the ocean. In a few brief moments, I was able to prioritize and simplify my life so I can focus on my needs. I am also glad the visit came so close to the new year, when so many of us examine needs and wants.

I wish all of Calhoun could have visited the ocean with me. It is mentally refreshing to separate wants from needs, and let go of the wants that haunt us. As we set New Year goals for ourselves and our community, we need to remember that our community is made up of us. Improvement and growth in the community starts within each of us.