The Beach

Wow... How can I describe this thing that is so much of what I am?

Recently, a friend sent me the following poem and I immediately thought "yea, that's what the beach is to me".

Water’s Edge by Rose Limongi

My body collapses where land and ocean meet,

My hot toes dig into the cool damp sand,

Burrowing in the granules of time in search of comfort.

The golden orb glides into the horizon, hues of orange and purple trumpeting the departure

My arms wrap tightly around my warm, pink skin

It is here at water's edge that I long to become reacquainted with myself - body, mind and soul

The blue green waves nip at my ankles, inching ever higher

Like a playful pup they come back again and again

Each wave contains the deepest secrets of ocean life

My mind ponders the meaning of life at water's edge

It is here that I solve the problems of the world

It is here that I grieve - my salty tears spilling into the saltier water - forming a perfect union

It is here - at water's edge - that I come to terms with myself honestly - strengths and weaknesses

My toes sink further down, the water trenching out my feet without mercy

I don't mind - for there is always more than enough sand to share

The faint smell of fish and seaweed linger in my nostrils

Rather than repulse, I draw deeply in - savoring the scent of peace that comes with them

The occasional plump sea gull swoops down in search of a meal

Only to be robbed by the pelican who is coming in lower and smoother

Like a dance they continue to scour the ocean surface for a delicacy

At water's edge the dead give up their secrets

Trinkets, and remnants, jewels and death all visit - indiscriminately

Cold, dead jellyfish whose sting knows no end

Is positioned next to the perfect sea shell with mother of pearl coloring

Parts of larger sea life wash ashore - anonymously so

Yet a closer inspection tells quite a tale of brave battle and noble death

As the sun gently kisses the sky goodnight, a chill begins to envelop me

A light gray-white mist rises from the water to lull all to slumber

The still warm water is beckoned home for the night

There is something about the water's edge that pulls me ever nearer

The endless possibilities - for no two visits are ever the same

Familiar yes, but each one has it's own signature - like the waves when they reach the shore

At water's edge I find myself again,

I am reminded of the awesome majesty of mother nature

Each wave coming from a far, exotic land where another pair of feet dig toes into the sand.

Then I thought some more (dangerous occupation, I know) and realized... These words have such a sad timbre and that isn't what I feel there. It's something intangible. Whenever I try to tie it down, it simply slips away.

The beach feeds me. I don't know how else to put it. It's like the eternal Mother, drawing me to her breast and lending me an excitement that carries me on and through. It constantly changes. From one second to the next, its shape and texture are redefined. The rhythm of the waves is heartbeat and breath. The water and the shore are the circle of life. These are eternal.

Think about parking and getting out of the car. First, there's the walk through the soft, loose sand. It envelopes us as we stride forward. It gives, yet forces us to strain towards our goal. It can be cool, warm, hot as hell, but it is never cold or indifferent. It conforms to our passing, yet it takes strength to move through. And, regardless of how careful we are, a bit of it travels with us even when we leave.

We get to the edge of the tide. This is where we have to be careful. It seems strong, ungiving. It feels like we can plant our feet there and stretch up to the sky. Then the tiniest bit of wave barely kisses our feet and that hard, packed sand simply washes away. We stumble.

The water catches us. If it's a quiet summer day, we are engulfed in its liquid warmth, not unlike the womb. If it's spring, fall, or (God forbid) winter, we are shocked into action. Should it be a windy day, we are knocked about and can choose either to fight it or go with the flow and have some fun.

But my favorite beach days are the stormy ones. Not the ones full of lightning overhead... I'm not stupid! LOL Rather the ones where the clouds scuttle across the sky, racing the wind in their angry progression... The waves heave ever forward with their furious white foam... The grasses thrash, almost pulled from the ground by the power of Nature. The darkness of the day creates a curious intensity of color. Those days fill me from within, without, seeping into every pore of my being. An indefinable excitement fills me to the point that I feel I can run so fast I almost fly. I want to laugh and shout with the wind that tangles my hair and rips at my clothes. It's incredible!

As I stand on the edge of the water’s caress, when I feel its power and stand in awe, it is so easy to seem insignificant. Then I realize, even the tiniest grain of sand has a purpose here. The sand, the water, the wind, the sky, the fish, the birds, all of Nature and me… we’re all parts of the same whole. How awesome is that?

When I was a teenager, we didn't have much. In fact, I grew up quite poor. A wonderful thing that happened was when someone gave my older brother a 3-speed bike. I immediately claimed it. That bought my freedom.

There was a particular part of the beach where we all hung out. It was about 8 miles from the house where I grew up. From the time I was about 15, every chance I got I would hop on that bike and ride for all I was worth to the beach. If it was the weekend, I'd spend the day hanging out with friends. But my soul depended on (at the very least) seeing the sun set.

There is simply something so wondrous, so indelible, so intangible about the sunset. You don't have to be a poet or artist to see it. It's impossible to capture that power, the evolution of brilliant changing color until that single moment suspended in time when at last the sun is swallowed by the water. Sometimes I think that if we could truly grasp that and hold it forever that everything in our lives would be all right.

Now, I live quite a bit north of the beach front, but that's okay. I know it's there, waiting for me. Sometimes when I have errands to run, I make certain that my path takes me down along the beach. To simply SEE it can be enough to help me breathe again. Every now and then, I actually stop and take a short walk, even if I'm in a hurry. I need it. Then I can leave whatever I can't carry right there at the water's edge. Or I can inhale its essence and find that special joy. I never walk away unaffected.

But when I can, I go down there with no special purpose in mind and I walk... and listen... and take it all in. It's so important to truly SEE what's around us. To remember.

All of this is very philosophical, but sometimes the beach simply IS. It doesn't require any explanation or validation. It's there. It's good.

So I leave this posting with one of my favorite quotes:

"Going barefoot is the gentlest way of walking and can symbolize a way of living — being authentic, vulnerable, sensitive to our surroundings. It's the feeling of enjoying warm sand beneath our toes, or carefully making our way over sharp rocks in the darkness. It's a way of living that has the lightest impact, removing the barrier between us and nature." — Adele Coombs, "Barefoot Dreaming"

Take off your shoes, wiggle your toes, and enjoy!