Since January, I've been off and on experiencing extreme mental weirdness. It came on suddenly as a feeling of lightheadedness and of being spaced out and disconnected. Over time it morphed into some terrible anxiety about what the hell was wrong with me. After enduring months of inconclusive diagnostic tests and much too powerful pharmaceutical drugs prescribed by doctors with good intentions but no real idea of how to help me, I've lately been learning to help myself. I read a lot of books, do a lot of online research, and do a lot of helpful "feel good" things, but the best, most healing thing I do is to walk on the beach almost every morning.
I started walking on the pier in January before the weirdness started. I love morning walks but my old stomping grounds were feeling worn out and I needed a new routine. One morning it came to my mind to drive down to Seal Beach. The weather was cold and the pier was perfect. I parked two blocks up Main Street and began my new habit of power walking into my days to the sound of waves crashing and the sights of fishermen, seagulls, surfers, ships, and the occasional sea lions and dolphins. I fell in love.
Fast forward five months and I am still in love with Seal Beach. I still walk on the pier sometimes, especially on cooler mornings, but summer is near and now most mornings are warm and delicious and I can't resist the call of the sand and the waves. I walk barefoot along the shoreline on the north side of the pier at least once, usually twice, sometimes three times. The water repeatedly washes over my feet, waves coming in and out, sometimes coming in much more than I was expecting and I get a little too wet but I don't really mind. I love the sights of the beach: the waves, the sky, the pier, the ships, the birds, the surfers. I love the feeling on the bottom of my feet of stepping on the diamond patterns carved into the sand by the receding waves and I love how the sand sometimes looks like it's full of gold sparkles. I love to close my eyes and really hear to the waves. I love the feel of the wind and the smell of everything.
At the far end of the beach there's a rock jetty and I always stop to touch a few sea anemones to make my walk feel complete. But the bulk of my morning mental focus is on hunting for cool shells. At first I had a "one shell per day" rule. I bought a small glass bowl to hold my shells and planned that when the bowl was full I would be cured. I changed the "one shell per day" rule by about the third day. Why limit the awesome power of beautiful shells? When I find a great shell, I rinse it off in the ocean then put it in my pocket and it makes me feel great. When I pick up a promising looking shell and then decide it's unsatisfactory, I throw it out into the ocean and yell "motherfucker." It's very therapeutic.
From the pier and from the first part of my beach walk I can see Long Beach in the distance and I always blow a kiss or two. I love Long Beach but I am having a passionate affair with Seal Beach. It is changing my soul for the better.
P.S. The shell bowl is almost full.
