Yesterday I went to the beach in Lima.

The Pacific there doesn't perform. It continues. With or without me standing in front of it, with or without my offering anything to it. Without my will or conscious effort or even existence. It holds all and returns nothing. It moves with a kind of power that isn't interested in being witnessed.

The repetition is total. And yet I never caught it repeating. That's the thing about the ocean — it's doing the same thing endlessly and somehow it never is.

For a couple of hours the soundscape filled every available channel. Nothing else got in. Pure input. Gracious input. The kind you don't have to do anything with.

The ocean rang and I answered.