Sea Salt for the Soul
Why is the beach so magical? I’ve always found the ocean incredibly energizing, and at the same time, mildly sedating.
My favorite beach blanket is soft and light cotton, with small turquoise elephants marching around the borders, and when it warms up in the sun it smells faintly of lavender laundry soap and incense from the Indian store I bought it from years ago. I inevitably pack my beach bag with a ridiculous amount of stuff that almost never makes an appearance — stacks of unread magazines from my coffee table (plus one or two new ones that I pick up on the way), my Kindle, a paperback (usually poetry), a cookbook, a blank journal that doubles as a sketch book, a pencil, and two pens (one black, one blue). I always have the best intentions to read, and draw, and journal, and find recipes, and read poetry — but it almost never happens, because something better always happens. The beach happens, in all its glory — the waves, the birds, the dogs, the cliffs, the seals, the boats, the sand, the sun. Running and leaping. Swimming and laughing. Sleeping and finding shade. I’m mesmerized, consumed, and whole-heartedly delighted by everything around me when I’m at beach, and nothing in my bag holds quite the same appeal. I usually show up to the shore fully ramped up, and leave feeling incredibly relaxed, in a dreamlike state of sweet lethargy.
The sound of the waves lapping, the seagulls circling and cawing, and the saturated salt air, lulls me into a trance within an hour of burying my bare feet in the warm sand.
I always head to the ocean when I’m going through a rough patch or need to do a bit of soul searching. After my mom passed away, I nursed my dad through the emotional devastation of losing her. In the seven years until his passing, I watched his soul slowly drain itself of any remaining vitality it had since losing the love of his life. It was heart-wrenching, and most of the time, I felt helpless. I retreated to the coast whenever I had a chance. The ocean greeted me with strong, open arms — like a gentle giant. It was healing and therapeutic, quiet and powerful. In those moments of extreme heartache, I searched the horizon for solace, and found shelter from my own storm. It’s important to know which places you can retreat to when you need comfort, if only for a moment. I feel lucky because for me, the ocean has always been one of those places — a reset button for my soul. Where do you retreat?
Photos by Shanti Nelson: (Top) On a recent trip to visit dear friends, we were lucky enough to witness a wondrous feeding extravaganza at Mitchell's Cove, a fabulous dog beach in Santa Cruz, California. There were hundreds of birds circling and plunging into the ocean, seals frolicking in and around the chaos, and dogs eagerly patrolling the shore. It was truly a magical moment, and a wonderful afternoon.
One of my favorite walks, the cliffs at Pleasure Point, Santa Cruz.
Watching surfers catch waves at Pleasure Point, Santa Cruz.
Glorious sunset and clouds at Seacliff State Beach in Aptos, just south of Santa Cruz.