Every walk on the beach is a healing experience.
Yesterday I was not myself. I hadn’t slept. The 35°c heat translated to 28°c in my classroom. With windows that don’t open and a room full of teenagers, it felt like about 40 degrees, and I spent my teaching day battling a headache.
I was cranky and I hated everybody.
When the workday finally ended, I went straight to yoga, then I headed to the beach.
Stepping barefoot onto the still-hot sand, I filled my lungs with the salt air and felt my shoulders drop. I know I’m not the only one to find peace at the shoreline, but it still made me think: There are lessons from the sea.
The waves wash it all away. All the debris disappears, all the clutter clears.
The tides keep turning. The seasons change; the sun rises and sets; the tides ebb and flow.
Salt is a salve. In air and water, it heals.
Everything changes. Sand ripples and reforms; stones and seashells scatter; driftwood is here and then gone. Each day begins anew.
Sand softens everything. Broken glass gets sanded into jewels, hard edges smoothed.
Beach grass thrives in tough conditions. Adaptive and strong, when roots grow deep, there is stability to be found.
We are water. Storms may churn, but eventually the water stills.
The sound of the surf drowns out the noise. The crashing waves can calm the inner chatter.
Sandbars appear for but a moment. The smooth sand below the surface is revealed, offering a brief place to play.
There are as many stories as grains of sand. Countless tiny fragments that come together as one.
My shoulders drop just stepping onto the beach. A breath of that salty air lifts my mood, feeds my soul. It returns me to myself.
I left the beach feeling lighter and happier, and liking people again.
It really is a cure for everything.