A few weeks ago, I was fortunate enough to travel to Hawaii. Now, I’m quite fond of adventures and lengthy flights, but this was different. In the days prior I packed and unpacked my suitcase, unsure if I would even get on the flight, but I was told that this was my time to clear my head. You need to find some peace, I was reminded. I wasn’t expecting to find any, to be honest, at least not more than I had found over the years.
I relaxed when I arrived. I swam in all those shades of blue and took in the sights. It was unbelievable to me, but nothing that really struck a different chord. I was expecting it to be this big, loud moment the second my feet touched the sand and I would just know. It wasn’t. In fact, it wasn’t until my last day there, hours before I had to go to the airport. A friend of mine took me on a hike to see the sunrise.
It was still dim outside; the kind of dark and quiet before the rest of the world wakes up. Ironically, that has always been my favorite time of day. Yet, I sat there impatiently waiting to see that little speck of light peak over the horizon so I could crawl back into bed. The ocean was calm, the town still sleeping below the ridge we were perched on. Slowly, the sky began to light up and, as it did, I watched it wash over the mountains, valley, and sea. It was unlike anything I had ever seen. It was beautiful and breathtaking. Suddenly, there was no noise; no whispers of the dozen others that had come to see the same thing.
I sat there, in awe, thinking: What if I missed this? What if I never crawled out of bed in the first place? What if I never allowed myself to witness something this beautiful?
It wasn’t a big, loud moment, but it was everything I needed.