A moment of painterly magic

Here is another kind of theatre. Looking down from the dune top a vast playground lays open for discovery. In the mountain valley of the Weser river, we have conquered the High Grounds and together with that the sovereign position of strategic overview. But here at the seaside you have to fight for that position by climbing the dunes first. On bike or more slowly on foot. To reach the “Thalassa” moment, breathe, spreading your arms into the air and feel that Ah! I have told you about this liberating panoramic feeling before. That splendid opening of the desired meeting with infinity, that Magna Matrix, and to See the Sea.

This morning I saw a young mother with her family raising her graceful arms in victory. Full of joy after climbing up the high dune, they all had now behind them. She laughed at me as I was climbing, pushing the pedals on my way back. Here is a threshold where many smiles, laughs, words and cheers are exchanged. From here you enter or leave the theatre with its vast playgrounds down there. Here you will experience a first glance of what is called “your king energy”. This deep spiritual feeling has nothing to do with our well known manic flush of victory. To be found at so many victorious moments in sports.

On the contrary, the threshold of this theatre can only be experienced in a state of awareness by stepping down, holding on, moving aside, staying and Being. Not by racing up and down the corner as so many cyclists do, blind for any surroundings or environment, shouting their way. And on the way down to the beach and the surf there are more of these entrance moments. Feeling the sand under your feet, crossing the laguna and starting to walk along the surf line. All these entrances and passages have a direct transformative impact on my well being. All these threshold moments inspire me to hold on, breathe, enjoy, make photo’s.

Todays photo is made when starting to walk over the Zandmotor along the surfline southwards. The sky was covered with mostly greyish summer clouds. No sun piercing through. A slight breeze. Delicious seawater. I had first loitered around, making photos of gulls and terns, looking and listening, fully enjoying. And as I turned southward walking over the wet sands at low tide, I saw...I don’t know what I saw. There was this mysterious wide open outlook to the Southern horizon. No sea to see, but very present rustling at my side, very near. And you see those children playing in a puddle and run away. I still don’t know what caught and fascinated me at that moment. The painterly magic?