I stepped out of the quaint beach house barefoot and walked along the soft sandy trail to the crashing waves. The red ball of the sun was beginning to appear on the horizon.

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It was early, and I hadn’t slept well. I felt like I hadn’t slept at all. My mind and body were restless, and the coarse, gritty sand polished and softened my thick, calloused feet with each step. It felt good. The rhythmic crashing waves beckoned me to come closer. I pulled my thin, silky robe around my waist and cinched it into a knot, continuing to walk toward the water’s edge.

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A cool breeze carried the scent of the ocean, and I breathed it deep into my lungs, tasting its healing seaweed and salt. My body was tired, but my mind needed release. Captive thoughts of not being enough or doing enough kept me awake. I needed to let them go.

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“Maybe I should sleep out here,” I thought to myself, looking back and forth along both endless stretches of beach to my left and my right. The Washington Coast was always a place where I could silence my thoughts and get lost in the peaceful sounds of nature – the crashing waves that gained momentum before they became white foam and slid effortlessly along the wet sand. They were a picture of gentle strength, and I marveled at what they’d carry and deposit on the beach. Sometimes, little pieces of colored glass. Other times, large seashells or picnic debris.

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Today, I spotted a perfectly smooth piece of driftwood poking out of the sand. I grabbed it and pulled. It was shaped like a Colt revolver with a tapered barrel. I rinsed it in the lapping waves and drew a circle in the sand. A wave slid in and wiped the slate clean—no trace of the circle. I wrote INSOMNIA and let the next wave wash that away, too.

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Wouldn’t it be nice if I could let go of my worries so easily?

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I pondered the thoughts that kept me awake. I suppose I was questioning my purpose and the meaning of my life. I’d walked away from my job months ago and had not found anything new, worthwhile, or meaningful to take its place. Did my life have meaning without my work?

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I gazed down the beach and saw what looked like a sea urchin lying motionless. I walked closer, and with my revolver-shaped stick, I rolled the sharp and pointy creature toward the frothy waves. A large wave came in and dragged the creature away by just a few inches. Another wave rolled in and pulled it out further. The water was deep enough for the animal to roll over, and it sent up a little spout of water as it did. It was alive, and this was a miracle I got to experience firsthand. The next wave pulled it under completely.

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Success! At that moment, my purpose was perhaps to save a life. I realized then that my life had meaning despite my lack of employment.

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I crouched down and wrote MEANING in the sand. Then I tossed the driftwood stick into the water and turned back toward the beach house—before I could watch it get washed away. I felt refreshed with only the sound of the waves behind me, and the heat of the rising sun on my back.