of whimsy, wonder, and a restorative walk by the beach

A little on the whimsical side, I had a thought Sunday as I went to bed: I could go for a walk on the beach tomorrow - what better to do on your day off?

First things first this morning, however: I rang the plumber. 'We can come today, someone will be there after 12.' Ah, so it might be an afternoon of waiting around, rather than by the beach.

But they arrived just after 11am, and, having farewelled the plumbers by 1pm and run a couple of errands, come 2:00 I was free.

So I took myself to the beach.

The notebook I put in my small shoulder bag with keys, drivers' licence and phone remained in the bag. Rare for me when going for a walk, no words bubbled to the surface, no poem flew in my direction sensing I would be ready to catch it ... my mind was blissfully, silently, still.

I saw the sunlight stream through the clouds beyond a lone fisherman.

I breathed in the sea air.

I walked. I sat. I listened to the water lapping on the shore. Even still and flat as it was this afternoon, the ocean is always moving, breathing, alive.

I walked some more.

And I delighted in watching two stingrays burrow in the shallows for food beside Brighton Jetty.

No words. Simple breath, silence, wonder. 

A little bit whimsical. A fleeting thought. A needed gift of space and Spirit-connection. 


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