This week’s post is a potpourri of reflections as summer and Labor Day weekend pass. I’m grateful for the month off from writing this post, and for a couple of weeks at the beach with family and friends. 

The first and biggest gift of taking time off is getting out of my routines. I was reminded over and over to let go and trust whatever was happening. I’m not in charge. Whether retired or working, I’m inclined to fill my days with activities that are habit, and/or seem important.

Letting go of habitual activities and structures powerfully reminded me of the illusion of control. Nature helped a lot with this reminder. 

I was stung by a jelly fish four times while swimming in the ocean; consequently, I gave up on going in the ocean for the rest of week one. The second week brought a different gift from nature.  A storm coming up the coast brought cooler temps, rougher surf and no jelly fish. Every day there was a big flag on the lifeguard stand: “Rough surf warning”. 

The waves came one right after the other. They were bigger and more powerful than usual. And they brought with them riptides which can drag even the best swimmer out to sea. Swimming in the ocean was then out of the question. Going in up to the waist to cool off was the only option. In my younger days, I would foolishly test the limits of how far out I could go. Having been beaten up by waves and frightened by the undertow a number of times, my aging wisdom cautioned against pushing any limits!

The amazing thing was that I enjoyed other gifts of the sea so much that I hardly missed swimming in the ocean. Being with Geraldine, our four children and grandchildren brought so many sweet moments. It was a precious, relaxing time together, one that we hadn’t had since before Covid. The conversations, the walks on the beach, the card games, and the meals together all gave me a deep rest and renewal.

As I reflected on my time at the beach, I was reminded of the powerful little book The Gifts of the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh. Written in 1955, Lindbergh writes in a simple and understandable way about what she learned from watching the waves and observing without lots of distractions the mysteries of nature. She describes the peace, strength and simplicity of being and not doing. While my library had to do a statewide search to find a copy, I found it helped me understand and savor my time away.  

I did less swimming in the ocean and sitting on the beach than I have ever done and still had a fantastic time that brought me both peace and strength.  Making space to listen is a gift available every day. It’s increasingly important in our times of radical unrest.