Rhythm of the Beach
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The first day at the beach is always an adjustment. The logistics of getting here are over, and I awaken to air, lighting, and scenery different from my usual world. Being at the beach is more than arriving. It doesn’t just happen. I have to slow my pace and quiet my mind. Walking on the shore with my white, tender feet, I let the waves wash away another year’s toil. I listen to the sound as they wash up on the shore then return, like a heartbeat. Up, back, up, back. My breathing begins to follow along.
My mind’s not as quick to comply. Thoughts about getting here and unpacking, as well as the work I plan to do while away, distract me. I’ve brought more books than I can possibly read in a week, a list of calls I need to make, and an over-stuffed beach bag of concerns I’m determined to figure out. The seagulls laugh at such a to-do list.
My pace slows as one foot sinks into the wet sand after another. The waves and the birds go about their business, inviting me into the present moment. Like a child wrestling with a blanket, protesting he/she’s not tired, I fight this slowing down. I carry on, though, knowing my heart and mind will eventually slow to the rhythm of the beach.
It’s a familiar first-day-at-the-beach liturgy, and I comply with the call to worship.
Extra Credit:
When was the last time you slowed down?
What’s the hardest part of getting your heart and mind to join you on vacation?
Is there a way to slow to the rhythm of the beach even when you’re not there?