Why my life is better near the sea.
In the relative quiet of our new(ish) surroundings, inner thoughts and ideas froth and foam and crash against the inside of my head.
The ebb and flow of my emotions, something that always accompanies me, seems more powerful. Tidal waves of feeling sometimes overwhelm. I catch a lot of waves. Periodically, they drag me under.
There are, of course, times of relative calm and it’s during these moments that the fragments of chaos that swirl together, whirlpool like, finally settle.
Now, nine months since we started this adventure, I’m better able to clear my head, to let things settle of their own accord, and to then sit and wait and calmly spot valuable jetsam as it bobs to the surface.
I alternate days of stretching deeply, feet rooted in sand, with ones where my heart pumps my own supply of salt water out of my sweat glands. If I achieve nothing else, no day is wasted if I move myself for an hour or so.
I know I need to read, to write, to connect face to face with people outside of this tight family unit. And I need to walk by the water.
When I am by the sea, white horses form and I ride then until the swell inside my mind subsides. Sand, wind, waves and I meld together. Who I am becomes less important. I enjoy just knowing where I like to be.