Stream of Consciousness: The Beach

I was there at sunrise, the beach, the warmth of the sand and there she was, the hot sun, rising above the ocean. It was not long before that darkness took the sky and somewhere deeper in the sands by the shoreline, I could hear the howls and calls from a small homeless camp with men drinking and shouting up to the stars. They were drunk beneath the nighttime sky and in the warmth of a South Florida beach.
I was here not too long ago; yet, this seems like it was another lifetime. I took walks along this beach during the sunrise. I let the colors from the horizon take me away. As the sound from the surf crumbled in waves, I walked along the beach with a mindful of thoughts and a heart filled with wonder.

What is this about this thing we call life? Is it me? Is it you? Is it our differences that draw us together or vice versa?
I wonder if anyone knew what this was like for me. As I have said before, I know that no one will ever understand what it’s like to experience touch from the palm of my hand. I understand that my versions of blue or green or any color in the rainbow is specific to me. However, I still wondered if anyone understood who I was or why.
I wondered about the laws of fate and destiny or if things like this were interchangeable with these moments of awareness. Or, is this fate doing its trick? Is this our destiny, proving itself, and if so, is this the world letting us know that we are on a specific track, regardless of right or wrong.

Ahead of us are two doors. Pick one. Pick the other. Either way, any choice determines the course of our life. And we know this. We can feel this in our hearts, which is why we always look back and wonder what would happen if we chose to look at door number two.

To be honest, my mind is often a place of contempt. This is why I love these walks, alone, on the beach with no one around or no distractions. I love it when the ocean is by my side and the gulls are flying overhead.
I love when the sun comes up to meet me like a friend and the breeze meets me with comforting news; but more, I love the feeling of the sand beneath my feet.
I love the way my footprints are cushioned into the sand, the same as the other nameless footprints like a trail of perfect anonymity.

I can be honest here. I can tell my facts to the sea and in turn, the outgoing tides take them away from me – like the unwanted sediments of the sands. And just like that, I am cleansed.
I can pray here, that is if praying is a thing anymore. I can find myself and feel the warmth of Mother Earth.

Above all, I can be human here, real, unique and genuine. I can be me without the need to explain or debate or cover-up for myself. There’s no arguing here. Just wind and air and land and sea.
The winds blow through my hair like fingers from a Mother’s hand, which gently strokes to cure the ills of her loving child.

Ah, the autonomy of the sea; the ocean, the freedom from government and the absence of opinion, the nonappearance of discrimination and the nonattendance of hardness or rigidity.
That’s right, rigidity; as in rigid, as in adamant or inflexible. The world can seem like this sometimes. It’s too harsh or too hard and too stuck in a one-sided belief system.

I don’t want to be stuck anymore or rigid or inflexible. I don’t want to be one-sided nor do I want to impose my lack of freedom upon anyone else. But ah, this is what comes sometimes. The pressure that comes with this can build up with pain – until we explode. And then what?

The ocean is not like this. No, the ocean can be yielding or bending. The seas and the bays can be inexact and flexible.
As I see it, our inability to bend or form to the tides is what breaks us apart. There must be a method to our madness, right?
As I see it, our plausible ideas may appear to be true; however, not all things are as we see them. Not all things are as rigid as we are. And me, I’m just looking to find my form. I want to separate from the hard boundaries and my subconscious traps.

Let it be known that I regard these walks on the beach as my place of worship. There is no ceiling in this kingdom – there’s only the sky, which is endless and limitless, which is the meaning of flexibility – which means to be able to take shape, or take form, and to mold without breaking; as in accepting or acceptive of the ways around us. And rather than fight, we learn. We choose to form. We move to adapt and rather than hurt or ache; instead, we take shape (so we can heal).

I see the sands as a symbol of acceptance. I see the beach as a gesture or a means to teach us about “give and take” or yin and yang. I see the footprints along an empty beach as the sand’s ability to absorb our thoughts, emotions, dreams and even regrets.
A person can come here to tell their tales or speak their secrets and no one would know.
Not even the wind.

I need this. (You know?)

I need a moment with the warm sun on my face. The sun is high and the wind is like a burst of pleasure against my skin. I can see the waves as they come into shore. I can feel the sand beneath my toes. I can hear the birds cry and imagine the absence of civilization, which is not to imagine this (or me) as uncivilized. Instead, this is more a vision of me as I stand away from anything built by humankind.
No, I am only seeing this as a moment between myself and a sense of good, orderly, direction; or as a power greater than myself. There’s no pain or dissidence, no contention, no discord, or disagreements. Not here.
Not at all.

I have had this connection with the beach since my early youth. I suppose that since I share everything with you, it only makes sense that I share this too because I want you to know everything. I want you to know it all.
I want you to know that yes, I am a fan and I am a believer as well. I believe in the power of our surroundings. I believe that our surroundings are contagious; therefore, I need to find a place where I can contract peace instead of disharmony. I need a place where I can find truth and unity rather than distress and frustration.
Perhaps this is why we find comfort in smiles or, better yet, this is why we yearn for the comfort that comes from warmth of the hand. Ah, touch.
It’s amazing. Isn’t it?

There was a lesson I was taught, which I often forget; however, it is important to be reminded that imbalance leads me to the unevenness of the world. Therefore, I have to understand that the more I choose to prove happiness for others, the less I prove this for myself. 

Sometimes, I am at a loss.
I am empty (without love)
And I don’t mind telling you. It’s not like this makes me less of a person. This only makes me more.
More . . .
As in the movement of the tides and the gestures of the seas.
More.
I want more. (But how?)

I suppose this is why I choose the beach as my sanctuary. I choose this when someone tells me to find my happy place. I can be here. I can wade in the waters.
I can stand on the shoreline. I can feel the sands absorb my footsteps, like a cushion in the spine of the world.
I can let my secrets go free here; as in, 
I can confess
. . . and be absolved.  

White sand. Blue water. Big sun. Bright blue sky.
And an endless journey that leads me to where my love is.

Oh, and I could use a hammock and a few palm trees as well
(for when I need rest).