Life at the Beach

In spite of Punxsutawny Phil’s dire prediction of more winter, we’re having gorgeous early spring weather in the Northeast. It inspired me to write this post.

If I can’t live at the beach, I’ll always be within a short drive. Its power draws me in and instantly recharges my soul. A day at the beach can do what hours of expensive therapy can’t (though I’ve never been the type to bare my soul to a stranger).

Maybe it’s the constant pounding of the surf, continually resetting your perception of the landscape and view of reality. Or maybe it’s the rhythmic rolling of the tide – in and out, in and out – lulling you into the belief that with the next wave the slate will be wiped clean. Maybe it’s the constant re-imagining of the sand so that the sins of the past and present are washed out to sea to be drowned and free you from their anchor.
Maybe it’s the feeling of being so close to something so powerful yet forgiving that one blast of water can knock you down while the next can spray you clean.

The ocean has the power to do all those things and more. Over the millennia, it has redefined vast expanses of land, carved great canyons through layers of seemingly impenetrable rock and changed the course of civilization. Yet in all its vastness and ability to make you feel inconsequential, water’s essence is its healing power. From your singular place on the beach, looking out onto the horizon, the beach sets the world open, presenting an eternity of possibilities.

On my writing desk at home sits a jar of sand and shells I brought back from a trip to Turks and Caicos. I had to navigate the tide in that inlet (pictured) peppered with especially sharp coral to reach a pristine pink sand beach only the most intrepid could enjoy. After exploring, I scooped up by prize and swam the gauntlet in reverse. I pop that jar open every now and then and swirl my fingers around in its silky grains to summon inspiration from all that sand has endured.

Each of us has a place we go, either physically or spiritually, to recharge. Mine will always be the beach.

Where is yours?

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