Beach Vacation

I teach others to take time for themselves and their soul’s progress and growth through T’ai Chi Chih and Yoga. I try to hold space for a person to experience that. But I don’t always take time for myself. My family beach vacation this month was soulful time in ways I never expected.

I went to the beach with a troubled heart. I was feeling burned out, angry and sorrowful. But something magical happened. Maybe it was the full moon or solstice, but each time I swam in the ocean, I came out feeling a little lighter, a little more at peace. One day I felt the anger fall away and drift out to sea. One day my grief and sorrow melted away in the sun and salt water. What a relief. I slept that night for 10 hours. Each day a concern that I was nurturing melted away; I was cleansed and healed over and over again. Now I understand those old-time, river baptisms and how transformative that can be.

I also think my daily practice of TCC renewed my spirit. Digging my toes into the sand and listening to the ocean made each practice seem like a dream. Nobody was doing anything. I was just moving with the tides. I have never felt such deep peace and flowing energy while practicing.

The ocean reassures me that all is well with the world. The waves strike a chord deep in my heart and remind me that Mother God is a living breathing entity as old as time. I love to watch the moods of the sea. Listening to waves break is the most exquisite concert I’ve heard. She sings in me and through me. There is something magical here even when it is crowded and noisy – and even though we humans show little respect for her presence. When I swim in the ocean, salt water heals and cradles me like a mother soothing a daughter.

I know it was Mother God’s gift to me and after eight days, I was healed and whole; my heart has stayed light and joyful. I fasted from the world by not listening to world news or watching television. It seemed to help; now I have little desire to listen to news or read a newspaper. I use that time to practice instead. Every time I become still and close my eyes, I hear the ocean and taste her saltiness and remember being held, cradled, loved. Then my body begins to move in Rocking Motion.