The cool morning salt air is healing. The beach is wide and familiar. This is where I come to visit the ravens. They are always here and don't know about social distancing. It is consistently easy being in this place. I pick up rocks and shells and later find sand lining my pockets, the treasures squirreled away in backpacks, jackets or purses. Over the years, I have carried beach rocks and shells from location to location. I mostly forget their origins but never the enthusiasm with which I declared them unique and worthy of holding dear.
When I was in grad school, I would take the N Judah to the end of the line with Ocean Beach as my destination. I would stroll until the sun sufficiently shined through the rolling fog, I could taste the salt on my skin, and I was heavy with collected charms. I would eat a hearty lunch at a beach cafe before the long ride back to my apartment.
In more recent years, I would ride my bicycle here, along the Great Highway, stopping to document feeding or frolicking birds. I frequented my favorite coffee shop and occasionally stopped for art supplies at a shop next door.
In times of uncertainty, this ocean, this sand, this salt air has done me an immense amount of good. The vibrant painted walls nudge my creative brain. The birds win my heart. The Cliff House on the hill and the ruins of the baths below remind me of the picture postcard aspects of San Francisco that I have examined and dissected in order to better understand my own desires. Over and over again. The horizon reminds me of the vastness of this planet earth. It is a heavy weight to put on a plot of sand and body of water. You don't choose your gold. It chooses you. Never worry if it is of the fools variety, if it is what makes you shine the brightest.
When I was in grad school, I would take the N Judah to the end of the line with Ocean Beach as my destination. I would stroll until the sun sufficiently shined through the rolling fog, I could taste the salt on my skin, and I was heavy with collected charms. I would eat a hearty lunch at a beach cafe before the long ride back to my apartment.
In more recent years, I would ride my bicycle here, along the Great Highway, stopping to document feeding or frolicking birds. I frequented my favorite coffee shop and occasionally stopped for art supplies at a shop next door.
In times of uncertainty, this ocean, this sand, this salt air has done me an immense amount of good. The vibrant painted walls nudge my creative brain. The birds win my heart. The Cliff House on the hill and the ruins of the baths below remind me of the picture postcard aspects of San Francisco that I have examined and dissected in order to better understand my own desires. Over and over again. The horizon reminds me of the vastness of this planet earth. It is a heavy weight to put on a plot of sand and body of water. You don't choose your gold. It chooses you. Never worry if it is of the fools variety, if it is what makes you shine the brightest.
