This popped up today on my Facebook "memories" page. Normally I skip all the memory stuff, but today I happened to scroll through and as soon as I saw this picture I practically screamed YES. My daughter's response when I posted this last year was: We should check. We should check right now. Truer words were never spoken. A year later? We should still check. Tomorrow? We should still check. We should check right now.
The beach seems to be a place where I can consider my life: past, present and future. It invites me to sit, slow down and just be. If I'm not ready, the ocean quietly yet insistently asks me to reconsider. Again and again and again, with each breaking wave, it wears me down, convincing me to breathe in peace and breathe out the toxicity of everyday life.
Once in sync with my surroundings, I dig my feet into the sand and will my toes to be strong enough to root my body and soul to this tenuous spot. But no matter how hard I try, I know my time at the beach is temporary, so it's important that I cherish every second in this special place.
With no distractions but sand and waves, I notice everything: Dolphins playing in the ocean, ghost crabs scuttling on the shore, and seagulls gliding over the ever-shifting dividing line between land and sea, searching for that next snack. I'm a stranger in their home, and yet they accept me without second thought. A lone kite flying over the dunes seems to say, "There's always room for one more." I'm so grateful for that.
The power of the ocean lies just beneath the intoxicating beauty of the surface. It takes very little to be reminded how how weak and insignificant we are. The ocean teaches us to remain aware and never turn our backs to danger. It reminds us that sometimes it's better to duck and let the fury pass over you. Approach with caution, and respect your surroundings.
The answer may not be at the beach,
but peace, appreciation, acceptance, and respect are there.
These might be all the tools we need.
I think we should go check.
For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)
It's always ourselves we find at the sea.
Can I come with you? Please?
I leave for Mexico on 12/21 at dawn. By 3 pm, my feet will be in sand.
I will think of you.
No, really, I will.
Post a Comment