The biting March wind whipped at our faces, a stark contrast to the sun’s warm, insistent glow. Suzy and I, along with our dearest friends, had escaped to Pawleys Island, our sanctuary, a place where the rhythm of the ocean overpowers the mundane. Even though the air held a lingering winter chill, the raw, untamed beauty of the place held us captive. The thunderous roar of the Atlantic, a constant, primal symphony, and the breathtaking, almost painterly sunrises and sunsets painted across the vast canvas of the sky, made the bracing wind a mere footnote in our experience.
A shaman, years ago, had peered into my soul and declared my spirit animal a silverback gorilla, a creature of strength and quiet power. Yet, I’ve always felt a deep, undeniable pull towards the sea. When I’m near the salt-laced air, something shifts within me. I feel a kinship with the sleek grace of a seal, the playful intelligence of a porpoise, the mysterious fluidity of an octopus. My limbs feel lighter, my senses sharper, as if the ocean itself is a conduit to a more authentic version of myself.
As regular readers of the Pew know, my connection to the ocean is profound, a constant, resonant hum in my being. It’s more than just a preference; it’s a visceral need. I believe we all possess such a place, a geographical soulmate. It’s where the tension in our shoulders melts away, where the ceaseless chatter of our minds quiets, and where our blood pressure, often a barometer of modern stress, gracefully descends. It’s a place where we are, undeniably, ourselves.
During this Lenten season, I urge you to seek out your own sanctuary. It might be a quiet forest glade, a windswept mountain peak, a bustling city park, or, like mine, the boundless expanse of the ocean. The location itself is less important than the feeling it evokes. Make a conscious effort to return, even if only for a brief moment. Allow yourself to be immersed in its essence. Feel the weight of the world lift from your shoulders. Observe the intricate details of your surroundings with renewed clarity. Let the quietude seep into your bones. You will find, as I always do, that your mind clears, your spirit rejuvenates, and your soul undergoes a gentle, restorative cleansing. The world, with all its complexities, seems a little less daunting, a little more manageable, after a moment spent in the embrace of your special place. And in that moment, you will remember, you are whole.
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