 |
| Port Hood beach, Cape Breton Island |
Oh yes, I still dream of the beach. The sound of the waves hitting the shore always helped me to relax. The repetition of the water hitting the sand was soothing. As a kid, my favourite place was the beach. I'd play for hours right at the edge of the water. I'd drift in and out of the warm saltiness, examining the sand, the stones, the seaweed, the shells, the snails, digging holes, building sand castles and exploring whatever else drifted by my vision. I could tell that my mother loved the beach too. I think one of the reasons was because she could just relax, stare out at the large expanse of water, swim a bit, and let the kids just hang out.
Those precious beach days were sometimes few and far between, but they really mattered. They made up for the rainy gray days and for the days when you couldn't go to the beach, even though the weather was perfect. The beach taught me about rewarding myself. It was all about me and my experience. No one else mattered. Just me and the water, and yes, okay, the sand, the shells, etc. they mattered some. But mainly it was all about that magical element of water.
You became a different creature in water. You moved in a different way. You felt different. You were different. All of a sudden your feet didn't carry you. Instead, your shoulders, arms, and hands pulled you. Well you got the small motorboat effect from the kicking of your legs and feet. And diving! Now that was exciting stuff.
What was your favourite location as a child? A treehouse? The woods? The city? The farm? Drift back there and live it all over again. Rub shoulders with that child you were. Feel how good the good times were. For it is those childhood good times that ready our adult selves for living a life of purpose, but also a life of pleasure and contentment.
No comments:
Post a Comment