I did something Memorial Day morning that I don’t do often enough… I walked. But rather than just a simple neighborhood walk, my wife and I walked at low tide on Kailua Beach one hour after sunrise.
And rather than flog myself up metaphorically for not spending more mornings over the last 45-years realizing the splendor that is Kailua Beach, I just enjoyed myself. We chatted, of course, and I also reveled in the sounds of (relative) silence. My amazing wife is in better shape than I, so she walked midway through our stroll on as I sat quietly for 20 minutes- while she continued further up and then back down the glorious beach; we then re-attached and walked back to our point of origin together.
No two snowflakes are exactly alike and no two grains of sand are 100% alike. I can confirm that no two beach walkers are alike. Some smile and say “morning” (not sure when/why we lost the word “good” before “morning”…), some nod, others avoid eye contact. Sunglasses discreetly hide gazes, too.
Each rippling, morphing wave is also unique- arriving on its own timetables, leaving behind various ocean traces (man o’ war, seaweed, plastic detritus, foam, sand berms) and inevitably receding. The wind creates its own rhythm and sound, making for a beautiful, nature-borne orchestra, repeated ad infinitum, with a hint of bass.
Experiencing these moments of just being present- amid dogs playing, couples holding hands, children laughing, fishermen casting and patiently waiting atop mini-sand dunes- is cathartic. It’s easier walking on level ground rather than on slanty, wave-eroded beaches. Thus, timing matters… it always does. If we’d walked earlier or later, we’d have negotiated greater beach angles; not ideal for aging, creaky joints.
In its phenomenal rock opera, “Quadrophenia”, The Who sang: “A beach is a place where a man can feel / He’s the only soul in the world that’s real”. In another song from that album (my all-time #1 album), singer Roger Daltrey crooned: “Nothing is planned by the sea and the sand.” The sea, sand, sounds, sun, and surroundings- they just simply are.
On that singular day, while also acknowledging the Memorial Day morning- mourning for those who didn’t come home from battles afar- I felt a sense of gratitude, peace, groundedness, and acceptance, intermingled with a calming sensory engagement. Hmmm, perhaps I should do this more often…
Think about it.