I haven’t been to the ocean lately.  For quite some time really.  I haven’t walked along a sandy beach ~ white, yellow, black, fine-grained, pebbled or big rocked.  I haven’t heard the waves ~ crashing huge and foamy or lapping blueish green ripples.  I live very near the big ocean, always have.  East coast, west coast, Alaskan coast.  Oceans, their watery vastness close, nearby, barely a stone or two or three’s throw from my window, depending on one’s throwing ability.  And yet, I have not been to the ocean lately. 

No wonder I find myself exhausted, unreplenished, fighting off or today more like barely staving off a head cold.  Today, I am pretending that I am walking along the ocean’s shore on a sunny day with high clouds and a steady breeze against my skin.  I wear sturdy shoes to navigate the pebbled and big stoned surface.  My eyes take in the life-filled tidepools that I kneel to gaze into.  My jeaned knee dampened by the moist sand.  As I continue down the beach, I remind myself to breathe deeply of the salty tangy beach air and to exhale out my worries.  My mind wanders to the picnic lunch that awaits me on my return ~ soft Cambazola blue-veined cheese to smear on the crusty soft bread, smoked baby oysters ~ ahh, my stomach responds with a small grumble.  I smile and continue putting one foot in front of the other on my ocean walk.