Beach Days

Back in the olden days, before COVID-19 came to upend the world as we knew it, I had had plans when I went to visit Kate in California. I had just retired, and I wasn't sure how I would spend my days there since she would be at work and Lexi at school. She (memorably) put her figurative hands on her figurative hips and said, "I work in Malibu. You've heard of Malibu. They have a coffee shop, a library and a beach. If you can't keep yourself busy there, I can't help you."

She had a point, and I was planning to give it a try, but I arrived for that visit just in time for the state to lock down in response to the virus. Instead of going to the beach, I spent my time helping Lexi begin to adjust to the abrupt shift to home schooling, and on a hunt for toilet paper. (Kate had been caught short as the great toilet paper hoarding event of 2020 played out.)

Forward eighteen months.

I went out for another visit last week. With the state open for (masked) business, I was able to give the day-in-Malibu thing a try. It went well, I never even made it to the library.

She dropped me off at the coffee shop on her way to work - a touching role reversal, which brought back memories of all the days I dropped her at school on my way into the office. I sat there for an hour or so, people watching and crossword puzzle solving, easily passing the time until the temp rose just a bit and the marine layer started to lift.

I then meandered the mile or so down the road and around the marsh to the beach, where I dropped my towel on the sand, sat down, and tried to relax. Turns out, I am a lot out of practice on the relaxing thing. I fidgeted. I scooted the sand around under my butt to make a more comfortable seat. I sat up, I laid back. I watched the birds and the surfers. I became aware of every tight muscle and latent ache in my body. I worried. I fretted. 

Finally, I got myself to stop. I eased down, leaning back against my backpack, eyes half closed and fixed on the water, hat shading my eyes. I managed to begin to shut down my mental chatter and to listen. After a few minutes, the roar of the surf began to work its magic. My breathing slowed as I tapped into the connection between the beating of my heart and the rhythm of the waves.

The waves have been crashing on the shore for eons. They care not for climate change, viruses, wars, or peace. I have been taught that all life on earth started in the sea, and lying there, it was easy to believe. I slipped into a meditative state. My aches disappeared and time was suspended as I let go.

*pause* *breathe* *be*

I came back to myself at lunchtime, my bladder and stomach competing for attention as my awareness returned to my body. I headed back up the walk to town where I enjoyed a delicious lunch and indulged in some more people watching. When the time was right, I returned to the water's edge for a reprise of my morning meditation.

Stop.  Breathe.  Relax.

Ahhhhhh.....  Yes.