Beach Walks

Seeing forms with the whole body and mind, hearing sounds with the whole body and mind, one understands them intimately.
– Dogen


Beach houses are battered, or maybe caressed, by salty winds, and their history in tropical storms and hurricanes. It gives them a character, weathered yet light. I'm writing with a view, looking up and out through the windows of this house on St. George Island. If it's a distraction, I like it.  

I'm just back from a walk up and down the beach, and some time standing and paddling around in the water. The shore is beautiful to see and to feel, blue-green water, very light-brownish sand, bright warm sunlight, strong but gentle breezes. 

I'm taking all this in through every sense I can call on, with all the consciousness of those sensations I can muster. I watch the bright, constantly changing play of light. The heat of the sun moves on my skin, and in the sea breeze kicked up by the moving heat. I hear a soft and steady rush of air as I walk to the west, and then turn around as I walk back in the direction of the house, facing into the easterly wind, getting a louder roar. 

Back to the beach in front of the house, I walk into the water up to my shoulders. Waves come in, and I breast-stroke over them, letting my body float over the crests. I taste the salt on my tongue, and the subtle scent of the saltwater in the air is amplified.

On the porch, I lie in the sun for a while, within earshot of the immemorial rhythm of the surf-sound. As many times as I've done this, I'm still grateful to be able to watch, hear, breathe in, taste, and feel the world and be moved by the mixing of all its elements here.