Although I've been returning to the North Shore since I was five, and only visited Black Beach a few times in the interim, it will forever hold a commanding and singular place on my internal mantelpiece of warm memories.
A few weeks ago, I took my Californian Honeybunny to the North Shore (and Minnesota) for the first time. And this is the first place she dipped her awe-struck paw in the great waters of Gichi Gami. We wiled away an entire morning vacillating between staring, mouths agape at the panorama of day-glow orange lichen-crusted rock formations, and stark, pine-studded, wind-swept headlands...and staring, mouths agape on hands and knees or fully prostrate at the microcosmic universe of rocks and pebbles of this vast, ebony-pebbled collection of heterogeneous mineralogical wonders.
In addition to touching Superior, and being touched, in turn, by something even more vast, opaque, and enigmatic, we also tried our hands--paws--at something I've never had much success with--agate hunting! And lo and behold, she found her first agate! I found about 4-5, most of which were less than 5 mm in width, but the largest contained an oddly dark and pale complexion, like a mocha with foam. It seemed to perfectly symbolize the enigma of this depthless inland sea, both a perfect representation of its complex, multilayered beauty, and a fingerprint of its individuality.
While it is easy to be swept away (pun intended) by the visual delights of this place, there is also an audio landscape that permeates this crescent sliver of night-hued sand. You hear it each time the waves lap against its edges. It is not the crashing roar I hear so often at Pacific beaches or even other parts of Minnesota's North Shore. It is more like another, distinctly Minnesotan sound, the tinkling of ice being crushed as the fragile skins of ponds either just on the cusp of freezing up in Autumn, or in Spring or the mid-winter thaw when the ice shards collide like metal wind-chimes in a faint summer breeze. While this sound is fundamentally akin to those just described, it differs in its essential qualities: it is more rhythmic, undulating at regular intervals, and less like the breaking of something; it is gentler, and lower-pitch, a cross between the sound of a giant's sonorous exhalations in a deep, peaceful slumber and the ringing of bells. It is easy to imagine some great, invisible hand or palm running over these sands, plying them like the strings of an instrument that mortal ears can barely hear let alone conceive of. The singing sands have their own voice and volition, and yet they can be plied. How is it so? How is it that a single note can provision the hearer with perfection, and it also can when played with other notes?
Whether one instrument aubades us, or many simultaneously, each note resonates as an echo of the whole, just as each grain of sand is an imprint of the whole. Choose your measure: pi, the golden mean, the atom, the pentatonic scale--the entire sea exists in a drop of water, the beach in a grain of sand, the human being, in an atom, the humble snail shell in a spiral. When reduced to subatomic particles, matter and energy are indistinguishable. We are not objects, but a ceaseless oscillating wave, and when all of our voices are heard together--the voice of the sand, the sea, the plants, and humankind--above the din of our illusions, constructs, and artifices--we exist as one interstellar orchestra, there is no cacophony, just a ceaseless hum. That hum is found in the sounds mothers instinctively make to their babies, in the purrs of cats, in the wind through tall grasses, in singing sands caressed by inland oceans. We all exist in the symmetry of our relationships to and with all other things. To the degree that our actions reflect that symmetry, we achieve perfection. Symmetry is simply the external manifestation of harmony.
Lest we forget that we are children of the Earth, it is wise to remember that the Earth is within us as much as we are a part of it. We are nothing without the iron in our blood that points to true north, without the calcium that forms the house of our flesh, we are nothing without the carbon that we share with all life as we know it, without the millions of unknown species of bacteria that live and die in the cities and countries inside of us, without the combination of hydrogen and oxygen atoms that makes the inland seas and rivers within us, without which nothing could live. We are intact ecosystems. We are whole, complete, perfect, and yet we could not exist alone. We are nothing and we have nothing without our relationships we have. We are but one of an infinite number...
Were I to give this beach another name, I think "Singing Sands" would be a fitting title. I could spend hours here lost in reverie, deaf to all distractions, receptive only to the voice of the singing sands, and the lost language of the rocks, the wind in the branches of gnarled pines, of the Earth herself... read more