Maybe it’s due to the holiday, but the smells of just cut grass and recently smoked ganja tickle the air on the walk home from the beach. With the high humidity, it makes for a curious, if not uncommon, tea.
I use the heel of each foot to brush the last of the beach sand from in between the toes of the other foot, leaving my outdoor sandals outside before walking through the door back into my home.
Conversations with the ocean are the ones in which I do the least amount of talking and the most listening. The ocean inspires and educates — what I need — and listens too, objectively. Nature doesn’t judge.
Therefore I should not judge the nature of things — the nature of nature. Hot, clean laundry needs to cool down and be folded and put away. I need to moisturize my feet. And I should eat.
And as it is still my nature to dodge human interaction — like kids do bees — at those times when I can’t maintain the solitude, I only need remember and heed what the ocean tells me.