I always seem to forget the value, the worth, the peace, of Ocean Therapy. Just being there, that’s all it really takes.
The breeze, the water, the sound, the constant, demands attention, quietly, consistently, relentlessly there, of of it, insistent.
How long could I sit there? One hour, six, twelve? Sun up until sunset? Waiting, listening, relentless, constant, unwavering, those waves. And so what?
What’s in your mind, it slowly gives way, slowly, ever slowly, then maybe suddenly? It goes the way, it goes away, it falls away, you’re left spent, empty, and yet full, too.
Of the sounds and the breeze and the water, all, much is said, need not be. The ocean, constant, insistent, quietly, therapy.

The smell of the salt air. Burgers and fries. Walking to the beach. Station 8. The Montana steps. California Incline. Damn I miss living in Santa Monica.