I find myself thinking everyone needs a beach, that, in fact, every state should have its own beach within a short and easy drive--at least the state that I live in. I grumble to myself that a ten-hour drive should not be requisite to this feeling.
But I immediately talk myself out of such nonsense. I don't live in Southern California for a reason. Not everything about the locale elicits these same feelings of fondness. I am not a fan of traffic, the sheer numbers of people overwhelm me, the high crime rate and high natural disaster rate (I know this from the media) alarm me. Those things stress me out. When I visit Southern California, it is actually only on the beach that I feel relaxed, and even then not always. Sometimes the trained lifeguard that is me feels obsessive about the wave or the current or the negligent parent.
And then, as I think this through further, I realize there are plenty of places at home that provide a similar kind of relaxation: a canyon drive, that spot on the couch with a book or an iPad or a remote in my hand, an unscripted conversation and long walk with a friend.
As I lounge on the beach in my relaxed and contemplative state, I am left to conclude that it isn't necessarily the location that is truly important. The essential awareness is knowing ourselves well enough to orchestrate relaxation when we need it. Simply knowing you need a beach is sometimes the equivalent of finding one.
Written 11 October 2015
