A CERTAIN POINT

Yesterday morning I was walking along the beach in Sihanoukville, marvelling at how still the water was compared to the day before -- no tide, no waves, no motion.

Not far away, disaster struck Thailand and southeast Asia, monstrous waves overwhelming people and cars and bungalows in one giant swoop. (I was about to say 'one fell swoop', but then I realized that I'm not sure I've ever understood what 'fell' means in that context.) Hundreds dead, swept away, submerged.

Unreal. And Cambodia, so close! Nothing. Hot sun and motionless water and light-brown sand, all untouched.

I had been thinking about going to Thailand over Christmas -- maybe to Bangkok, possibly to Phuket.

Decisions, decisions, decisions. Is it up to us, these seemingly innocuous choices that spare us or condemn us? Is the Big Guy upstairs actually in charge of the weather patterns and the size of ocean waves and the thoughts that leads us from person to person, place to place? Or is it randomness itself that guides our lives, a benevolent energy, an actual tangible force that distributes death and smiles without fear or favor?

Not sure.

I stood on the beach yesterday, looking at the calm, blue water that stretched out, out, out, and I realized that this was one of those rare moments in life when everything at a certain point in time and space is at peace. When everything is stable. Nothing but water and sun and sand. Nothing but drift. Nothing but feet-in-sand and sky-up-above and blue, above all, blue, clear and distinct.

But it was just a moment.