Watching a full moon rise above the waters of an ocean beach on the east end of Long Island is a religious experience. The moon comes up ever so slowly on the horizon and hovers just barely in sight. Then it mightily rises along the perimeter of the dark, clear sky and the ocean’s waving waters. Sometimes it comes up looking as big as Jupiter and overwhelms you. I just cannot recall watching better moonrises anyplace other than on an ocean beach. There is no doubt it has always been an experience for people to be on the Atlantic Ocean shore watching the moonrise since the beginning of time. One has to pause and watch, take notice and look.
When there is no moon shining in the night sky there are just the stars. Billions of them. On a clear, dark night the big star-studded sky over the ocean is a quandary, full of mysteries no human mind can comprehend. Great minds like Einstein, Copernicus, Galileo and Newton could only make educated assumptions. Who will ever know how it all began and why and how it exists? The theories are plentiful, and perhaps it is simplest and easiest to comprehend by just saying God created the universe. When I lived off the Atlantic Ocean and had to walk my beagle at night my game was to look for shooting stars. I would not go back to the Montauk beach trailer until I saw one. On the clearest of nights, I never had to wait all that long.
The sun rises in the east every day. It always has. The first rays of sunlight illuminate the dark sky slowly until it becomes the bright blue we all know and love. The clouds come to life with sunlight. Their definition helps you determine how sunny or cloudy the morning will be. Mornings have a certain acoustic sacredness. Sound seems to filter through the morning air slightly differently than later in the day.
f you have ever slept in a tent, whether in a park or in your backyard, you can remember the sounds of a morning. Birds chirping, even the footsteps of squirrels are amplified and identifiable. I can still recall those morning walks to school that started off with me alone but slowly, surely being joined by the others aiming their walk toward the school. I am not sure how many kids today get to experience that walk to school, with busing and driving now done for safety reasons. In my time, in my town there were no buses and we were all taught not to talk to strangers.
If you have a pet dog, the chances are that is why and how you now experience the early morning. No matter what time I went to sleep the dog had to be walked the very first thing every morning. My dog would sometimes jump onto the bed and gently hit my face with his paw. I would awaken to both his dog-breath and his dark eyes. It was not a courtesy call, but more like a two-minute warning. Once out walking along the ocean no matter rain or shine I always felt the magic of living right on the ocean. I believe the dog did, too.
Last, but in no way least comes sunset. For all of us sixty-something and beyond folks the symbolism of sunsets is acute. I have been fortunate to see so many sunsets sailing the waters of Gardiner’s Bay right off the shores of East Hampton. Sunset sailing is the ritual of my last twenty years.
Many times, there sailing alone, other times shared with my wife or good friends. The east end sky gives up its last rays of sunlight with magical endless streams of colors reflected on clouds and other particles reflecting the last light of day.
I feel time move as the sun disappears and darkness crawls across the sky. The buoy lights flicker on as the windows of the homes along the shore light up from interior lighting. It is then that I know my forever soul will most likely dwell in the skies above the east end. At sunset I feel all the other forever souls already there.
