This is not the blog posting I was going to write, the one chasing me through restless nights and ambushing me when I least expect it. Our minute-to-minute shifting world probably creates a comparable tossing and turning in many if not most of my fellow Americans, and many additional global citizens. Nonetheless, that posting will have to wait, since what you are reading arrived with far less noise and fury, this morning, on my walk by the Pacific Ocean.
It is noteworthy, this walk by the Pacific Ocean. My experiences of the puzzle pieces of “recovery” from my “Covid 5/Atrial Fibrillation/Ablation” adventure has included slowly reclaiming pieces of my prior life, trying them on, modifying as needed. It has been a curious and educational process. Also, alternately sobering or hilarious.
The missing puzzle piece, in some ways the most central for me, was beginning my return to my near daily walk on the water’s edge of the Pacific Ocean. It’s absence in my life was disorienting, leaving me feeling deprived. I could not even articulate to myself what I was missing. I just knew something was seriously amiss. Today was my return to the water’s edge.
I was appropriately greeted by the busybody plovers and sandpipers, scrutinized by the somber sea gulls who abruptly converged among themselves, becoming an agitated clan of sea gulls. And then there were the waves, both their visual tossing and crashing, catching the sun’s bright lights, and then the rhythmic comforting sound of their endless patterning. I realized this sight and sound centered me as nothing else could. I was home.
After standing in silence, experiencing this centering surge through me, mesmerized and even amused, I began my walk by the water’s edge. It was a relatively high but receding tide, which pleased me. It can sneak in the kind of wave that tricks you into misjudging where the water’s shifting “edge” actually is, only to find yourself chased by a rogue wave intending to soak you when you were sure it could not.
This beach has a modest offering of shells, mostly bivalves and whelks, nestled in sand, with a few small mounds of kelp that wash ashore as well as branches of downed trees from somewhere. All these familiar companions were there, welcoming me with their random displays of beach life. There were two fishing boats on the water, along with clusters of sea gulls further out from the shore.
The humans about were familiar, quiet, focused on their own connection with the Pacific Ocean. Two people meditating on rocky abutments, three women and two men walking their dogs, a father and his young son asking a beach ball to act like a soccer ball, a focused young woman in her running gear and ear pods sprinting past me. Further down the beach park I could see the quiet men who were working on the park’s renovations.
And there were the fishermen and perhaps fisherwomen that were specks in the distance, at the end of the long wooden pier. As is sometimes the case, there were also water edge fisherman, today two middle aged men focused on their prey and their skills.
If any of us actually encountered another we performed the quiet ritual greeting we all knew was appropriate: either “Hello” or “Good Morning”. More commonly there was simply silence though often with eye contact and a smile. It was a tranquil rhythm of shared engagement. We were all where we wanted to be.
As if the ocean knew this was an important visit for me, as I neared the place where I would turn around and retrace my steps, headed east along the water’s edge, I spotted two seals swimming parallel to my walk about a hundred feet distance from me. I have only had the joy of siting the seals a few times so it is always exciting to me. Often others on the beach, when we spot seals, will share a celebratory moment of silent smiles. I looked about to share, and found only the woman meditating…so I celebrated with the seal.
As I walked, I would pause after about 20 to 25 steps to simply experience the experience, to pay attention, to let myself sense my oneness not only with the ocean but through the ocean, with all that is. For me the waves are always a meditation on impermanence, and I like to think of each wave as a human life.
Many waves are quiet and methodical and do what waves are supposed to do. Every once in a while, you get a huge crashing wave. They always make me laugh and think of all the people I have encountered in my life journey who were big crashing waves, maybe even show offs. And just like the little waves, they too dissipated and returned to be the ocean. And one day they all would return as part of another wave.
Watching the quiet waves, I felt a sense of peace. Watching the show off waves and laughing at them, I realized I was also feeling this deep sense of joy. Feeling this peace and joy and exploring it helped me recognize that my familiar spontaneous gratitude had emerged and surged.
This spontaneous gratitude simply celebrated the fact that I had the opportunity to walk on this quiet beach, greeting the endlessly hungry shorebirds, sensing the waves reminding me of important matters, watching fake soccer on soft sand as a way for a boy and his dad to connect, chronicling the dogs of the day.
As I headed back to my car, I saw the flowers were coming alive (spring comes early here) with morning glories weaving through jade bushes and sea figs blossoming everywhere. I had turned 82 during my health escapade, and was relieved to see I could walk the brief stretch back from the water’s edge, through the soft sand, supported by my walking sticks, a bit more fatigued but safe and able to climb the modest dune of sand and small boulders between me and my car.
This was a “Homecoming” for me, a place that created a surge of positive energy, peace, joy and gratitude in me. I did not have to “try to be grateful”. It was instinctive. I wondered if most humans have a space or place like this, a place where joy and gratitude emerge naturally and all is well in our world. It seemed many did though it was often not a focused part of their daily life or planning.
It occurred to me that if we have such a place, it is essential that we decide what we do with it. I realized that for me, it is a place of self-care. I also realized that each human has to decide for themselves what they elect to do with this space or place of potential positive self-care. I think most women in the US, maybe even in the world, are schooled more about caring for others than in caring for themselves. Hence many are cautious about pursuing opportunities for self-care.
It occurred to me that in my celebration of International Women’s History Month I might wisely include a heightened awareness of my own self-care. This could serve as an antidote to the lessons I have both mastered and practiced of caring for others while failing to care for myself.
This “Homecoming” reminded me of what self-care feels like, how it can energize me in hopeful and positive ways. I was personally experiencing it but I have also witnessed it in others. I know the world is a better place when large numbers of humans manifest the impact of creative self-care.
As our nation and our planet seem to be tossed about and fractured in often incomprehensible ways, many are asking “What can I do that is a positive contribution?” How can I help us all move past the chaos and cruelty?” It had never occurred to me that one thing each of us can do is to be conscious and deliberate about our own self-care, making us a more positive and perhaps productive force as we all try to navigate the stormy seas we are now encountering, where waves suddenly look like “the enemy”.
My “Homecoming” place was the antidote to the push and pull of the “news” that can swamp me as I find myself ruminating on the virtually endless (and continually growing) list of distressing events that can haunt me. When I am engulfed in these stories of suffering and sorrow, I am a dark force myself, caught in the tide of the impact of destruction. What I might offer that creates hope and possibility is maimed and my focus is lost in that darkness. The self-care of finding peace, joy and gratitude can be one reliable opportunity to pick the more life affirming alternative.
Reflecting on my magic walk along the Pacific Ocean, this idea expanded. Much of what is most destructive in our culture right now emerges from a deep sense of grievance. This is often manifested as a belief that something is wanting in one’s life conditions and it is someone’s “fault”. It seemed to me that creating “waves” of self-care modifies this narrative: what does self-care entail and how does it interrupt grievance? It is difficult to sustain both.
Maybe waves of conscious and creative self-care moments, in forests, by rivers, on mountains, in deserts, on hiking trails, and yes, along oceans could shift some of the dark energy that threatens to engulf us. Maybe supporting the self-care efforts of others might be a way to increase our communal well-being. We honor those who care for others; perhaps we need to find a way to honor those who care about themselves, and in the process create the best possible version of themselves to do their part to create the best possible version of our shared human experience. Maybe we need to create our Homecomings.
“When you recover or discover something that nourishes your soul and brings joy, care enough about yourself to make room for it in your life.”
- Jean Shinoda Bolen -
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