a sacred zone

shell by Keith Shannon ~ Monomoy National Wildlife Refuge, Cape Cod, Massachusetts

Not a day goes by that I don’t take a walk on the beach. The beach is truly home, its broad expanse of sand as welcoming as a mother’s open arms. What’s more, this landscape which extends as far as the eye can see, always reminds me of possibility. It is here I can listen to my inner voice, shed inhibitions, move to the rhythm of the waves, and ask the universe unanswerable questions. That is why when I found myself at a crossroads in my marriage and my life, I ran away to Cape Cod and spent a year by the sea, I was sure this place, so full of my personal history, would offer clarity.

The beach to me is a sacred zone between the earth and the sea, one of those in-between places where transitions can be experienced – where endings can be mourned and beginnings birthed. A walk along the beach offers the gift of the unexpected. Scan the horizon and glimpse the endless possibilities. Stroll head down and encounter one natural treasure after another. Tease the tides and feel a sense of adventure. Dive into the surf and experience the rush of risk.

~ Joan Anderson
(A Walk on the Beach)

22 thoughts on “a sacred zone”

  1. Oh this is lovely! The beach has always felt like this to me, a sacred zone. I remember seeing the ocean for the first time, and the sense of coming home. It turned my prairie girl’s heart upside down.

    1. Colleen, I’ve never seen a prairie before, except in pictures! On the other hand I cannot remember the first time I saw the sea – surely I must have been a baby – but I never took the sacredness of Mother Ocean for granted. Perhaps some day I will be dazzled by a prairie, too…

    1. You’re welcome, Stephanie. 🙂 There is something so deeply healing about being on the seashore and its nice to know you’ve had the same treasured feeling of being home there.

    1. I cannot imagine living so far inland – I’ve never lived more than an hour away from a beach and am content to be living withing walking distance for the past nineteen years… Welcome to my blog, Jerri!

  2. So well described. Its straight from the heart – of the people by the sea! I love this post. So dreamy, wishful. Thank you so much for sharing this. Made me love the beaches even more. 🙂

    1. Thank you, Sonali, I had a feeling you would love these words from Joan Anderson. Reading her memoirs about the personal growth she experienced living alone for a while on Cape Cod touched me deeply. It’s magic when someone loves a place as much as we do.

    1. You’re kind of lucky, Rosie, you have mountains and the seashore relatively close to you, and still have all the cultural resources that living in a major city offers. I hope someday I get to see your ocean!

    1. Hi Mags, welcome back! I was sorry to see that your dad had by-pass surgery but glad to know that he is making a good recovery. No doubt that having you to stay with him is a great help. I miss you and am looking forward to reading your blog again when things settle down a bit for you.

      1. Thank You.
        I will not be blogging myself till the New Year, but I have a little bit more time at the moment and thought I would catch up, I do miss all my blogging friends.

        1. Sounds like a good way to ease back into the blogosphere. Wishing you and your dad a joyful holiday season and a happy, healthy new year!

    1. Thank you, Robin… I love and admire this author and have read three of her wonderful memoirs. There is something so sacred by the sea, where land, water and sky meet. 🙂

    1. Sadly, Diane, I don’t get to the beach as often as I used to – there are many family obligations that seem to consume my time, and ironically, blogging cuts into beach time, too. I’m happy to know you have the same feelings about this sacred zone.

Comments welcome...

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.