A couple of days ago I stood in the surf of a beach that I love to visit. It's a spot not far, about an hours drive. It's quiet and off the beaten path. I especially love to go there when the wind blows and the clouds sweep and change into mysterious shapes above me.
An unusual calm settles subtly over me when I'm close to the sea. A quiet but definite comfort of body and soul. I love the sound of the waves and the gulls. I love the smell of the wet plant life and the salt water carried on the wind. I love the feel of sand under my feet. Between my toes. The creak of the wooden docks. The dune grass waving like the tide. Broken shells and smooth stones softened by the ocean's care. I am whole, by the sea. My soul is home.
Which then begs the question, why don't I go there more often? Or better yet, why don't I simply live there, by the sea? There is no 'good' answer to this. I wish there were. The truthful answer, which I know about but wish I didn't, is neglect of spirit. My previously persistent refusal to listen to my heart. To move toward what pulls at my spirit.
In my own defense, I will state now that this is no longer the case. I can't go back and change what's done. But I can refuse to continue in the opposite direction of my heart's desire. I may not be able to live by the sea today, but I will continue to take what steps I can to get there soon. I will take at least one step today because that's what today is for.
When it was time to head back to the car, I picked my red clogs up off the beach and carried them up to the sidewalk on the way to the parking lot. I stopped to brush the sand off my feet before I realized what I was doing and stopped myself.
I slipped my toes into my shoes and walked away from the sea. But I took the sand with me. And for the last few days, every time I slip back into my red clogs I can feel the sand soft against my toes. And I grin, like I have a secret, each time. I may not live by the sea today but the sand in my clogs remind me of which direction to head.
An unusual calm settles subtly over me when I'm close to the sea. A quiet but definite comfort of body and soul. I love the sound of the waves and the gulls. I love the smell of the wet plant life and the salt water carried on the wind. I love the feel of sand under my feet. Between my toes. The creak of the wooden docks. The dune grass waving like the tide. Broken shells and smooth stones softened by the ocean's care. I am whole, by the sea. My soul is home.
Which then begs the question, why don't I go there more often? Or better yet, why don't I simply live there, by the sea? There is no 'good' answer to this. I wish there were. The truthful answer, which I know about but wish I didn't, is neglect of spirit. My previously persistent refusal to listen to my heart. To move toward what pulls at my spirit.
In my own defense, I will state now that this is no longer the case. I can't go back and change what's done. But I can refuse to continue in the opposite direction of my heart's desire. I may not be able to live by the sea today, but I will continue to take what steps I can to get there soon. I will take at least one step today because that's what today is for.
When it was time to head back to the car, I picked my red clogs up off the beach and carried them up to the sidewalk on the way to the parking lot. I stopped to brush the sand off my feet before I realized what I was doing and stopped myself.
I slipped my toes into my shoes and walked away from the sea. But I took the sand with me. And for the last few days, every time I slip back into my red clogs I can feel the sand soft against my toes. And I grin, like I have a secret, each time. I may not live by the sea today but the sand in my clogs remind me of which direction to head.
Aren't you glad I shared?
Some favorite words ~ whimsy, doodle, serendipity, lyrical
Least favorite ~ anxiety, scramble, chaos, traffic
