I take a small note book with me everywhere. I use it for everything from taking impromptu notes, jotting down something to research later, or ,as is its most frequent use, to write down my thoughts. I would like to share an entry I made today on a trip to C. Sands- a beach in the South of England. It is times like these where I am grateful for the company of myself, a companion for life of whom I’ll never get bored. A friend, who if looked after, will take me on such wonderful thought journeys.
I love the seaside. The sea is beautiful. It glimmers. Packed gold being washed by shimmering diamond. And the people running about on the sand. The happiness, something so beautiful and fleeting which doesn’t last very long in other parts of the world. People come to the beach to leave their worries. Embrace the rolling waves and their warm thunders, reminisce under the blaring sun, feel the fine grains of sand between their toes- reconnect with life.
Social rules leave at the beach. Jane Austen’s heroines figured that much out. People wander about in what seems akin to their underwear, children have free reign. Their monoliths tower on the golden plain: Fortress Flanexx. I wish I could see the world the same way children do, the boundless fun in piles of miniscule sand. Making music in puddles, those mini seas of the beachfront. What do they see that we have lost? The screeching of parents contests their childrens’- only at the beach.
A beach at the end of the world looking out into the Atlantic, a body of water that touches the US and France. What relation does a molecule of water at Camber Sands have with it’s counterpart on the coast of Staten Island?
It’s a wonderful place, a liminal one that smells of brine and joy. A place where people forget, and go blank so they can start again. A place at the end of the world which consumerism will never dominate- a place which will be free and allow the fleeing migrants of human adversity refuge. The waves call and comfort.
We were meant to be communal animals. To live and spend time with people we love.
Each flurry brings a universe of its own. Mini rivers and mini seas.
My thoughts and their quietness give me wings. I’m lucky to feel free- a woman and free. Not like the Mernissi women in whose Harem they were afforded a small square of sky for sustenance- I have the broad and unending expanse of streaked blue to feed from, what shall I do with it?
Please excuse the substandard grammar; for better or worse I don’t think in accordance with grammatical rules and feel I must honour this eccentricity in my post.