Leaving San Diego is always hard. I don't know why, but I feel like I am leaving home. I don't live there, I have never lived there, but it feels like home. Maybe because my sister lives there, maybe because of the vacation atmosphere. No demands on my time, no stress, no worries. I suspect it is more than that.
I have lived near water most of my life. Living in the desert of California has been been the first place where water was not immediately near by--and I am not counting the swimming pool in the back yard. Or, on second thought, maybe I can. I am drawn to water, or water calls me. I am not sure which it is. I do know that water follows me. In traveling to San Diego, I am following a Siren's call I am powerless to resist. I have gladly given over my power to the ocean, because the ocean gives so much of my power back.
The ocean in its variation and repetition is the perfect poetry metaphor. I find pure beauty in simply watching the waves roll in and out, no two are exactly the same and yet they match the one before. Ocean waves are the purest form of meditation. Calming the mind, quieting the monkey chatter, stilling the breath. And for me it doesn't take long; I can be at the beach five minutes or five hours, the results will be the same. A sense of peace will wash over me, and I am more focused, less stressed, and more powerful.
I like walking to the beach, the walk through the neutral zone. The area demarcating the world of daily stresses to the world of ocean wisdom. With each step to the beach, a care falls away. Until the beach chair is unfolded and the the sunscreen lathered on, no cares seem to be left, at this moment. Subconsciously, I take a deep breath, and let out a long sigh. This is where I belong, right here, at this place, in this moment.
As the fog rolls in and I start to pack up, I take one last look at Ocean Beach. One last memory look. I take a picture with the camera on my phone. But it is the memory look that I'll remember. The way the ocean smells, the coolness of the air on my face, the sand in my sandals. This is what will stay with me, this is what I will carry back home with me. This is what will sustain me.
This is what will sustain me... Maybe I need to think about making San Diego more than a vacation spot. Maybe I need to think about making this place my home. Maybe... the kernel of an idea is starting to form ... I could maybe, maybe, maybe.... The door is wide open. All I need to do is walk through and make the life I want. The life that will sustain me. Maybe down the road I won't have to leave San Diego after all.