I’ll never forget my first sight of the Pacific Ocean when I was just six.

As I waded through shallow pools, edging closer to the waves crashing onto the far side of Haystack Rock, I was lured by the sound, by the hypnotic rhythm, by the immense unharnessed power I felt vibrating in the soles of my feet. But I was not afraid. I somehow sensed I would always know how to respect that power, and perhaps even one day how to infuse it into my own body.

Being on the seashore energized me, heightened my perceptions and made me never want to leave. From that day forward I pestered my parents every weekend and each summer to take me back. Thankfully, they often did. After all, it was only an hour away from our home in Portland, Oregon, and my parents, who had spent their lives landlocked in the Midwest, also felt a similar attraction.

After I got a driver’s license and my own car, I would even play hooky from high school and enjoy a day alone at the beach in utter bliss. Being a good student—and a great forger—I was able to show up the next day with a note from my mother, renewed and inspired. For me the ocean was a drug, an addiction, a constant pull on me, as if my own inner tides could not properly ebb and flow so far removed from the source. And I always knew I would have to live at its edge.

Which I did for many years, in some of the most spectacular towns along the Oregon and California coasts: Cannon Beach, Gleneden Beach, Mendocino, Pacific Grove and Carmel. Now I live on an inland sea, the Strait of Juan de Fuca in Washington state. While not often as tumultuous as the Pacific Ocean, the strait has many more moods, and I’m enjoying the variety. Living within sight and sound of the sea is a cherished gift I’ve given myself, since it has at times been accompanied by economic hardships. But I wouldn’t trade a minute—or any of the bounty I’ve collected during my lifetime of beachcombing.

I know no better tonic for body or soul than the pure inhalation of ocean air in concert with the rhythmic pulsing of tide against shore. Add glints of sun on the water, the squeak of my feet across sand, the swoopdeloops of gulls begging for my sandwich—and I’m in paradise. As if that wasn’t magical enough, four times a day the sea deposits surprising presents along the tide lines.

How about your beach treasures—have you given much thought to them after you carted them home—or do they gather dust on a window sill? I invite you to consider new ways of thinking about nature, especially the portable delights we’re inspired to claim. In sharing my green meditations on what I’ve found and how I’ve interpreted their meaning, I hope to inspire you to savor a greater appreciation for natural wonders—and to help preserve what’s left of them.

MEDITATION VIDEO

The following 3-minute video is from the Australian Meditation Society and presents some lovely ideas about our connection to to the sea. Enjoy!

If you’re still in the mood for a beach trip, you can visit Rialto Beach here.

Click on any of the following links for more information:

What Is Meditation?
How To Meditate in 5 Easy Steps
Setting the Mood
Benefits of Meditation
Expanding Your Current Meditation Practice
Why I Meditate and How It Affects Me

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