Finding Peace at the Aquarium

It was a lazy Sunday when I rose early to head to the Oregon Aquarium in Newport using two passes gifted to my wife by a friend. Usually, in peak season, getting to a destination by 10 a.m. is suitable for eating breakfast and slipping into a museum before the majority of hung over tourists rise to consider their options. This day, I was wrong. Every parent within a circumference of 50 miles and a baby between the ages of six months and two years converged on the attraction with bulky carriages by the time we claimed one of the last four parking spaces. Now, I have nothing against babies, but when the primary exhibit is a long see through half tube of water, things get crowded and hot pretty quickly. Children often get antsy in such close quarters and may bounce around nervously. In the midst of this chaos, my wife had a poignant observation. Once you settle into a comfortable spot, watching the unaffected schools of fish glide by serenely, you experience a deep, peaceful state of consciousness. A few deep breaths, and you are absorbed into the scene. There are no fish texting, no business meetings, no late appointments, just pure existence in the moment. Somehow, the chaos falls into the background, you float along, and become part of it.