I call places like this beach my thinking spot. Sometimes they are, but in actual fact more often it’s my no-thinking spot. It’s where I go to clear my head and not have to think at all. I listen to the crashing surf, I watch the waves roll in and back out. I examine the changes in texture of the sand from one end of the beach to the other, from shoreline to waters edge. The smooth dense wet sand, the rippled tide-receding middle sand, the light and airy sand in the sun. Truth be told, I find beaches and the ocean in particular to be cleansing.

To me, it’s not a place to go soak up the sun, although at times that too has its place.

And that’s why you’ll find me bundled up in the middle of winter, with or without my camera, walking the beach. The bitter cold wind and icy salt spray has a way of literally taking your breath away, and with it all of my worries, even if only for a moment. Sometimes I drive along the shore, stopping at beach after beach. Sometimes I sit for an untold length of time just being. And sometimes I do in fact think.

It’s a meditative place, the beach. Every beach unique, and every day a new beach.

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