Wednesday, January 21, 2009
As a child, weekends and summer vacations meant packing up and heading to the beach. Sometimes we were quite a crowd with aunts, uncles, cousins and early on, even grandparents. Bonfires were built with leftover construction lumber. As the sun sank into the sea, we’d roast hotdogs and marshmallows and never complained about the crunch of the sand that got blown into our food.
When I reached that golden age of sixteen and got my drivers license, I didn’t wait for weekends to head to the coast. I’d hop in my Mustang, where I kept my swimsuit, a towel and a bottle of baby oil and iodine and spend every precious hour of daylight at my favorite spot.
Nothing soothes “teenage angst” like the sun on your skin and the rhythmic swoosh of the waves lapping against the shore.
Years passed and I met the man who’d become my husband. Dates usually consisted of dinner, a movie and a walk on the beach.
Soon, I became a mom. Once I’d figured out how to juggle a diaper bag, a toddler and a picnic basket, off we’d go—to the beach for the day.
Then about seventeen years ago, we did the unthinkable—we moved away from my beloved San Diego to Atlanta, Georgia. For those of you who are unfamiliar, Atlanta is landlocked! No ocean for hundreds of miles.
It didn’t take long before I transformed into a happy, smiling beach baby into a scowling, complaining grump. I didn’t even like being around myself.
One weekend, in desperation, my husband surprised me with a trip to Tybee Island, which is near Savannah. I celebrated my birthday, which often occurs on the Summer Solstice, by walking the beach at sunset.
As I strolled along, I watched the moon rise over the Atlantic while the sun sank into the western sky above the marshlands to the west. I felt all my tensions wash away with the tide and those little frown lines that form the number eleven between my eyes disappeared and were replaced by laugh lines around my eyes.
On the trip home a few days later, I had to have hubby take over driving before we were even out of sight of the water—I was so relaxed, I couldn’t keep my eyes open!
Since then, it’s been an unspoken understanding that I must put my feet in the ocean—any ocean—at least once a year. Hubby has commented that I’m much more relaxed, and, ahem… affectionate, when I’m at the beach or gliding through the ocean on a cruise ship.
I began doing some research and found that the very act of water in motion causes molecular changes in the air around us, energizing everything from plant growth to the human sex drive.
That explains a lot.
So what energizes you? Do you have a special place where you go to renew your creativity and/or your energy?
Posted by Cinthia Hamer at 8:03 AM