After the waves

I am back from vacation; and it's a life-altering return. My vacation could have included many other things but it consisted of all the things that I "needed" as opposed to what I wanted. And that's okay with me. The ten minutes I spent walking along the beach was enough for me to realize certain things about myself, my place in my job, my relationships with my friends and my purpose in life. Yeah, kind of deep, huh? I'm not really a deep person; I'm an emotional person but not a very deep one. I think I just found my inner deepness - if that's even a word.

I also found my version of Willoway Brook. It's Bird Rock on 17 Mile Drive in Monterey, CA (if you're picky, it's probably technically Pacific Grove but whatever). I only walked it for 10 minutes but to take a few deep breaths of crisp ocean air (as deep as anyone with a bad cold could) was really revitalizing. The soft sand churning beneath my feet, which were carefully avoiding the jellyfish washed up along the shore (they sting even when they're dead or dying); my eyes finding small muscle shells devoid of their previous owner but beautiful when reflecting the light of the sun. I brought the first one (and the smallest) I found home with me. It sits on my dresser in my bedroom. Each time I walk by I'm reminded of the precious time I spent walking on that stretch of beach, climbing a few of the rocks to watch the waves crash against them, the salty water filling the many small tide pools in between and around, missing me completely. But it was dangerously close to high tide so back to the high beach I walked avoiding this time the seeweed displaced from it's ocean home. There were only two women who walked past me and huddled between two rocks further up and higher on the beach, reading thier books. But, besides them, it was only me - and my breathing and my heart beating. In the background, there was the sound of the small waves rolling continuously toward the beach and a seagull's squack in the distance but other than that it was just me, for once, at peace. I grew up close to the ocean. I never lived more than 2 1/2 hours away - but it wasn't until those very ten minutes that I remember feeling so connected to it. At first I thought that it was just because it was the first time in awhile that I was able to be alone and without stress. But there was just something about it that was different. And then I realized that I was an idiot. If you look in my bedroom today, you can see just how much I really love the ocean. I have pictures on my wall of it; my bed linens and bedspread is named "Blue Lagoon," there are parfait glasses filled with colored sand to match the bedspread, and I even have a small Yankee candle that smells like ocean water (with the same name). And if you could look into my head and see what I have planned to add to my room, you'll see visions of palm tree leaves lining the top of the three full walls of my bedroom as the border. I am in love with the ocean and I never knew it. No wonder I felt so at peace; I've missed it so much that I've been trying to replicate it in my own home! And, by extension, my office. Everything is blue, like the ocean. Coincidence? Maybe. But I think that my subconscious is working overtime to give me a sense of peace any way it can. I do feel more at peace, though things for the time being are not better (work, home, spiritual). But at least I see a light and see a path opening. And today's meeting helped that - though I have mixed feelings about the whole thing. Still, at least I know and they know - that's all I asked for, really.