Beach Mornings

I came out to California this past week because Kate had a thing to go to; my job was watch Lexi while she was out of town. As part of my watching duties, I was to deliver Lexi safely to and from school. I didn't consider this a problem, especially since her new school is very near to the ocean.

It took me all week to find my rhythm, but by Friday morning, I had my mornings down! Drop Lexi at school, then pick a beach (there are several choices within 20 minutes of her school). Drive to said beach, park in the almost-empty lot, then grab backup sunscreen, water and a towel for sitting on.

Make my way down the path to the beach, and sit until my sitter gets sore.

I was an outlier on the beach each day. Everyone else I saw was in some version of a swimsuit, while I was there in long sleeves, long pants and hat, shielding my tender skin from the sun. I didn't care that I didn't fit in. The glint of the sun on the water, the roar of the waves, the birds flying by - I was caught in the magic of the moment. 

I watched in awe as the waves crashed against the shore - how many years does it take to carve a path beneath a rock? I felt the pull of the ages, the unfathomable stretch of time in two directions. They tell me waves have been crashing against this shore since before life began; they will continue their music until the moon is gone and the tides are stilled.

Each morning, once I sat, it didn't take long for my constant mental stream of words to slow to a trickle. My eyes drank in the beauty of the salt spray, my lips welcomed its primal taste. My body became attuned to the slight trembling of the ground beneath me as the earth absorbed the power of the waves, and my breath slowed to match the underlying rhythm of the water. My heart was sure there were answers in the moment, just beyond my ken, if I could only...

Eventually, the brightness of the sun broke my reverie. Jolted back into awareness, I became aware of assorted uncomfortable sensations telling me it was time to stand, to move, to eat.

One day, I tried to return to the beach after lunch, but found the heat too intense, the sands too crowded. I was unable to return to that now-elusive place of peace, so I gave up and left - perhaps in another season.

After I retreated from the beach and enjoyed lunch, it was disconcerting to have nowhere to be while I waited for Lexi to be done with school. Thank goodness for coffee shops and public areas where I could linger without feeling intrusive. I tried, one afternoon, to pick up my drawing pencil, but was unable to get into my mental art space - after drawing and erasing my underlying sketch five or six times, I gave up.

Clearly, I need more practice to know how to fill my days when left to my own devices.

I do think, however, beach mornings are the perfect place to start.

Beauty Is.