With Waves Like the Ocean

Last weekend, I went to a small pocket of desert hidden in along the coast of Senegal just south of St. Louis. From the village of Lompoul, our group of seven - the magic travel number here - traversed the scraggly, rolling hills in bouncy four-wheel drive jeeps to reach our final, sandy destination. The enormous, barren, orange dunes greeted us with perfect weather and a series of pristine, white, Mauritanian-style tents that could only be entered at a crawl. After an exhausting day of camel riding, drumming and dancing, sunset watching, and frolicking - yes, frolicking - atop the dunes, we donned (light) jackets for the first time this semester to lie in the sand and stargaze.

I'm still amazed by how peaceful it was to search beyond the clouds while sprawled across the cool sand. Because of the rolling landscape of the dunes, gusts of wind tunneled at us with the rippling force of the ocean before a storm. It was like listening to a conch shell and hearing home, although we were at least twenty miles from the nearest beach. Atop this mountain, we talked for nearly three hours about life and love and purpose, because the stars always inspire such conversations. This conversation of good friends and relaxing scenery led me to a tranquil, satisfied state. It's moments like these when a fresh breeze wraps around me and a shooting star passes overhead that I am reminded of the expansiveness of the world in which we live.