Bliss (part 1)

True bliss is rare in life. It is a fortuneate individual who can claim they have experienced it in its basest form. To me bliss moments are those which are so captivating that they are branded into your memory bank so clearly that you can access them at any time. You can remember every detail of the moment with astounding clarity, and return to it over and over again in an instant.
These are occasions when I feel absolutely “complete” – and there is nowhere else I’d rather be at that particular moment in time…

This time the scene was set up thusly:
Setting: a cool, breezy August morning, slightly overcast with a greyish glow behind the clouds where the sun was hiding, a sand beach stretching roughly 2 miles in length, and me, the runner.

I woke early before anyone else was up, pulled on a pair of shorts and a running top, and, leaving my running shoes behind, quietly left the tent (which was pitched next to the beach). It had always been one of my fantasies to run barefoot on a beach, and I had been presented with just the opportunity that morning. I strapped on my MP3 player and set the volume low enough so I had the sounds of nature as my backdrop. I began to run…
At first I picked up the beat from a song I was listening to, but soon found my footfalls adjusting to the earth’s rhythm; the pounding waves coupled with my steady heartbeat. Stride after stride my world of stresses started slipping away. As I dropped them on the sand behind me and ran, the wind blew my hair, whipping it into my face.
Reaching one end of the beach I turned around to see the long ribbon of sand receding and curving around the bay, beckoning me. Starting back I could see the remains of my footprints, the impressions already beginning to be erased by the waves, veiling the fact that I was ever there, a secret shared by me and the earth. By the time I reached my original starting point, all evidence that I’d been there had disappeared. I’d gone through a unique experience, a ritual cleansing while the waves doused my sandy feet as I sprinted along.

What went through my mind was nothing short of complete and utter immersion of self into that moment:
I remember each step, how the hard packed sand felt as my foot landed, how it gave slightly in the drier parts, the almost too hard slap where the waves had pounded the surface down to a near-concrete hardness, and how I quickly learned where to place each foot for maximum effectiveness.

I remember the taste of the cool moist air as I inhaled each cleansing breath and how my slightly laboured exhalations were grabbed by the wind and tossed away with each passing gust. Even the slight residue from the Brugal Rum I had imbibed the night before mixed with the humid spray coming off the lake was pleasant as I concentrated on breathing in and breathing out.

I remember everything that went through my mind for those four all-too-short miles. I say “too short” because it was a feeling I’d wished could have gone on forever. Although I wonder if I had had more of a taste, would the memory would be as sweet? The way I see it, you have to leave still wanting more from the experience for if you completely satiate the hunger, if not the pangs may disappear.

I recall this particular morning clearly because it was a bliss moment. I can close my eyes and immediately return there, and I often do. There are other “bliss moments” which I will return to during the course of my writing, but be forewarned that many of them involve me and running, which in part explains why I am so devoted to this activity. If doing it can instill so many clear and beautiful memories, then it’s not something I’m wont to give up soon.