After a yummy burger and gratifying conversation with my niece at the Cheese Cake Factory on my way here, the choice was obvious-- nap or walk. I chose to walk, although the idea of a nap was mighty appealing. But with cold weather coming tomorrow, I reasoned that I’d better get out while the temperature was hovering at 40 degrees instead waiting for tomorrow’s forecast of 15 to come true. And besides, there was the burger (and fries) to consider, or shall I say, to deal with.
Every day my beach experience is different. Today, no waves, which meant no surfers. The beach was clear, except for at one end where piles of seaweed had gathered. Where had it all come from? Where will it go? Very likely on my next visit, except for a few stray pieces, the seaweed will have disappeared.
Although there were quite a few people out on the beach, very few were alone, and so, for the umpteenth time, I got thinking about how different it is to walk by myself versus with someone else. Having just returned from a social weekend, I thought about the conversations I had. Chatter, profound and everything in between. But when I’m alone, I can choose not to talk at all, which is what I did tried to do today: “Stop that chatter and look about, be aware of the present moment. You can’t do that when you’re with someone else.”
It is only when I am alone that I can drift into that place of longing, those holy moments when thoughts disappear and a deep satisfaction, beyond words, takes over. It began to happened this afternoon on the beach, but takes a day or two for me to settle into silence solitude and simplicity up here. I trust that those moments will come more willingly and with less difficulty. They always do.
Every day my beach experience is different. Today, no waves, which meant no surfers. The beach was clear, except for at one end where piles of seaweed had gathered. Where had it all come from? Where will it go? Very likely on my next visit, except for a few stray pieces, the seaweed will have disappeared.
Although there were quite a few people out on the beach, very few were alone, and so, for the umpteenth time, I got thinking about how different it is to walk by myself versus with someone else. Having just returned from a social weekend, I thought about the conversations I had. Chatter, profound and everything in between. But when I’m alone, I can choose not to talk at all, which is what I did tried to do today: “Stop that chatter and look about, be aware of the present moment. You can’t do that when you’re with someone else.”
It is only when I am alone that I can drift into that place of longing, those holy moments when thoughts disappear and a deep satisfaction, beyond words, takes over. It began to happened this afternoon on the beach, but takes a day or two for me to settle into silence solitude and simplicity up here. I trust that those moments will come more willingly and with less difficulty. They always do.