This past weekend, I visited Virginia Beach with some friends. The whole weekend, it was overcast, cold, rainy, and windy- not technically ideal for the beach. On Saturday morning, I took a solo walk along the beach. I didn’t stay long- just about an hour- but in that time, the experience became something more than just a walk. It was a confrontation with the “naturalness” of nature.
Unlike a peaceful mountain sunrise, this was not about serenity or pretty scenery. This was nature unfiltered and moody. There were no crowds, no swimmers, no tourists. And yet, despite the discomfort from the freezing wind, it was nice in its own way. We often expect the beach to be sunny, warm, and pleasant. The way we communicate about nature is often culturally shaped to emphasize beauty. But there’s less space in popular environmental narratives for this kind of in-between experience- neither idyllic nor disastrous, just kind of grey. My walk reminded me that nature doesn’t exist to comfort us. It just exists.
On that beach, I wasn’t separate from the storm; There was no buffer. No distance. Just the physical reality of being a human body in a volatile ecosystem. It reminded me that not all connections to nature are quiet or contemplative. Some are chaotic, cold, and wet- yet still meaningful.
