An Impromtu Spiritual Adventure

I went to the beach today. I have always liked the beach, always felt drawn to it. As a kid, I lived in the middle of the desert and the beach was over 2 hours away. Needless to say, I never really went. My mom was super sick when I was a kid, suffering from chronic nerve pain. She went to the doctor in San Diego a lot. So, every month, sometimes a couple times a month, we took a small road trip. It began usually early in the morning, piling water and blankets/pillows into the car to make the ride a little more comfortable. We would stop and Jack in the Box for breakfast. Still, to this day, I crave a Breakfast Jack combo on long car rides.

The routine was simple, Jack, the road, the doctor, a lunch (usually In-n-Out, but sometimes Red Lobster), and back on the road. When getting back on Interstate 8, you had two choices - go east, back home to the same, old boring desert, leaving the excitement of an actual bustling city behind, or go west, towards the beaches, to a much more lively place that feeds off the ever moving energy of the push and pull of the ocean.

One might say I romanticized the beach and didn’t see it for what it was - a high trafficked area with too many people, over-priced property, seagulls swarming for food, and beach bums with unkempt hair that smelled like patchouli. I am not sure if that picture is accurate. It is stitched together from the memories of other people who tried to change and denounce my love for the beach when I stated it. I don’t know why I wasn’t just allowed to like things.

Anyway, I always asked if we could go when we were in San Diego. I always asked. The answer was always no. It was a, “No, I’m tired. Mom hurts.” It was a, “We have things to do, it’s getting late.” All I ever wanted to do was sit on the sand and watch the tides roll. I wanted to feel the sun on my skin and the sand between my toes. I wanted to smell the salty air and feel the ocean breeze kiss my face. I wanted, without really knowing, to become one with the powerful energy the sea held, and the secrets she kept in her depths. But I never got to. We went once, maybe twice, in my whole childhood, and I couldn’t give you any details of those trips. Now that I think about it, did I even go at all?

That brings me to today. Capstone ended early, and it was about time to start my car. (It’s been sitting in the same spot for about a week. It is from 1995 and the battery has been known to die if not moved in a while.) I was just going to take a ride around campus and call it a day, but then I realized I am allowed to do whatever I want. I have been wanting to go to the beach for the longest time. I almost rented an Airbnb back in October because I wanted to spend the full moon sitting on the beach and just feeling. That didn’t happen. But it got me thinking.

My childhood had to be full of practicality. Both my parents were disabled. My dad was super tight on money, even though we were a comfortable middle class, presumably so we could stay comfortable, but as a kid, there were no trips, no vacations, no family adventures, unless you count the annual trips to the desert, which suffice to say, I didn’t. I never had them, so I never missed them. There were never any impromptu shopping sprees or “let’s go to the movies” just because. I think that has a massive reflection on how I live my life now and how limiting I make things for myself. I live pretty practically. I like staying home, which is super helpful during a pandemic, but I forget that I am an adult with some money and the freedom to make choices like randomly deciding to go to the beach. But today, I wanted to change that.

I got in my car, although the sun was already setting, drove to Port Hueneme and did it, and I just sat there for an hour in the sand, with two sweaters and two pairs of pants on because I was fully prepared for how cold I was going to be. And I sat and meditated. And I inhaled the air and watched the sky darken. I saw the full spectrum of color in the sky as the last rays of sun disappeared. I began to tear up at the magnificence of the earth and the perfect balance she holds. The shore, the sea, the sky, a shared existence. All sharing the wonder of life. They are alive, despite the scientific definition of the word. They serve a purpose. They hold energy, they establish and keep balance, without burden, without the fear of having less or more. They just are. The ocean just is. The sky just is. I want to just be. I want to be able to serve a purpose in this world without having to want or need, without worrying about making enough money to survive and provide for myself. I want to be one with the earth and just exist.

But that isn’t realistic, and it isn't practical, but if I can take one thing away from this whole thing, it is that I can now enjoy the beach whenever I feel like it; because although I live for practicality, there is no reason why I can have a little spiritual escape and just be. Alone, in the sand, with the sea.