For me, there’s no cure like the beach. Such a variety of things combine here to relax and refresh me. The wind, the water, the sand, the sun, my slow pace, all combine to restore my joy and refocus my attention. Even if I sit in the condo and simply listen to the sounds while I write or reflect, I enter a new frame of mind and heart.
This morning it was overcast and cool as the tail end of last night’s storm cleared out. But there’s nothing sad about the lack of sun. It’s simply another mood.
Only at the beach do I totally let down. In the morning, I’m sitting with a coffee. Watching all the movement around me. Hearing a constant, distant roar of high tide under a nine knot Northeast wind, settles me into the rhythm of nature. Every few seconds, gusts hit the balcony door. Since it’s not tightened down, the wind moans past it into the sitting room briefly rustling the fig tree’s long, slender leaves. The blinds sway and clack–some wind-inspired conversation I’m not privy to.
I smell coffee, sea spray, and wild roses. These are the smells of my experience here at the shore. I remember the smells at the shore when I used to go as a teenager to West Dennis, Cape Cod, every summer. There I smelled salt water, sun-tan lotion, beach plum, scrub pine, and clam flats. Sometimes I was treated to the smell of an old fashioned New England clambake.
Along the beach, spume and spray lift with every crash of the white topped waves as they spend their energy down the shoreline. Colorful jackets and sweatshirts here and there make their way along the paths over dunes to disappear beyond. Then minutes later they reappear far out along the waterline. I sit and watch. I listen to the quiet in my spirit, undisturbed–at rest and grateful.
Later afternoon, the sun returns and I sit out with a tall, cold, Iced tea or juice–ice cubes clinking and sweat dripping down the glass onto my coaster. Listening to my favorite playlists of Brazilian bossa nova and smooth jazz or of the beach songs I recall from my past. No agenda. No conditions. No schedule. Just plain laziness and rest. I’m not a tourist here. I’m planted. The perfect atmosphere to inspire a creative spurt and perhaps a stray post.
I believe I’ve found my cure.
QUESTION: What does the beach do for you? Is it a cure for you?
©2012, David C Alves
