Of Salt & Sand

Happy New Year! Welcome! In this blog, you will find musings, inspirations, ideas, and thoughts. The intention of this blog is to inspire and help us all grow - and hopefully add a little light in the storm of today’s world. I wanted to call it “Deep thoughts with Shannon” but that takes up a lot of room, so “Musings” it is.

Here we are in the new year! I can’t believe it’s 2024, and that the holidays are already behind us. We had a Covid Christmas. We started getting sick a few days before the Winter Solstice, and were sick until a couple of days before the new year. Jason and I quarantined together with my roommate’s cats. We were very lucky considering, but it was a long nearly two weeks without leaving the house much.

Winter IS the time for slowing, down, however, so going to bed early and sleeping late with naps in between felt decadent even during illness. Everything on our planet slows down in the season of winter - except humans, nowadays. Modern life has us in a constant state of spring and summer, and many have lost touch with the rhythms of nature. We no longer slow down in the fall and rest through the winter. Modern technology has made this season easier to not only survive, and even be productive and thrive, and so we do. We continue moving and shaking and in addition to not slowing down at all, we have added so much complication to the holidays of this season that even that special time has become chaotic.

So with all of this in mind (also fueled by a healthy case of cabin fever) I challenged us to go to the beach on New Year’s Day. We got so lucky, in Northern California going to the beach is often an exercise in endurance between the mist, fog and heavy winds, but that day the sun was out, the temperature was gorgeous a 59° day, and there was not a single cloud in the sky.

As soon as we arrived, I plopped down in the sand with my fancy lavender matcha oat milk latte and my vegan chocolate chip banana bread in awe. The sound of the crashing waves, the sounds of the people around us having fun, the dogs running around, trying to steal the Fishermans hall, and barking at each other. I sat there for nearly 2 hours without moving, just absorbing like I was one of those thin, flat sponges you buy at Trader Joe’s, that you have to inflate with water before you can use them. I just soaked it all in.

Finally, after watching three groups of New Year’s dunkers, I had to do it, too. Except, being a little more of a cold water coward, I was only willing to dunk my piggies in the ocean. The waves were big that day, not dangerous necessarily, but good-sized, and the undertow was strong. I stood there in anticipation for the inevitable onslaught of chilly ocean water. When it finally came, the force of the incoming wave nearly knocked me over, and when it rolled backwards back into the sea, it felt like it wanted to take me with it. I stood strong, planting my feet in the sand beneath me while the receding wave pulled at my legs. It felt as if it were taking all of the parts of me that were used up, no longer needed, and pulling it all out from the deepest parts of me taking it down into the deep where it can be cleansed and renewed by salt and sand.

I thought about what I wanted to replace that stuff with what intention do I want to fill that empty space with for the new year?

The answer was silence.

Simply space.

What if I didn’t call anything in to replace what the ocean had cleansed from me? What would it feel like to just have that space inside me? What did that idea make me feel a little uncomfortable? That last is probably something I will chew on for a while, but it begs the questions:

What if we don’t have to fill every nook and cranny with intentions and spells and offers and engagements and chores?

What if we just breathe space into our lives?

For example how many beach days did you have in 2023? Or days in nature if you’re not near a body of water? I think I only had one true beach day a day completely free of a schedule with just me the sand, some sunscreen, water, snacks, and a blanket. And that day, like this one, I felt so rejuvenated so refilled, but not with stuff or clutter - refilled with space. So if there’s anything I intend for 2024, it’s to encourage myself to get comfortable with empty space.

With wiggle room.

With breathing room.

What is your year-end new year revelation? Did you have one? (It’s totally OK if you didn’t).

I am feeling so lucky that I’m beginning 2024 with so much gratitude for all of the amazing experiences I had in 2023. I learned a lot and I gained a lot and I am grateful to be here now to share it with you. I hope for you that you are able to find inspiration in the simplicity and stillness around you. May we all get to breathe space into our lives this year.

Thanks for reading. See you on the next new moon, and here’s to many many many more beach days in 2024!