I just spent a week of indulging in the act of doing nothing – morning coffee on the beach with your toes in the sand; afternoons spent making sand castles, splashing in the waves, and beach combing for shells and glass; and evenings spent around the fire, toasting marshmallows. Life at the beach is mostly spent barefoot. Bathing suits come off only to sleep. It’s uncomplicated.
Shutting off your internal thoughts is an art that I have not yet mastered. Sitting still is something I am working on. Being present and not feeling the need to be doing something is one of my greatest challenges. If I am not doing something my mind makes up for it.
Except when I am at the beach.
Someone once described meditation to me as, “the pursuit of nothingness, a quieting of the mind.” It intrigued me. Being on a beach is the closest thing to meditation that I can manage. There is something captivating; almost hypnotic about staring at the horizon, studying where the blue sky meets the water. And, the only sound you hear is the waves crashing on to the shore. I haven’t found a place that makes me feel more present and content than the beach.
I leave everything behind the moment my feet touch the sand.
Sitting around the bonfire, someone declared that this would be the “summer of beer and marshmallows”. It sounded perfect. I have been doing my part to keep up with that promise.