About this time last year I looked at my calendar and realized I was lucky enough to already have three trips to the ocean booked for 2018. At the same time I was searching for inspiration for a photography project for 2018. It seemed to be the perfect solution ….. for the year I would go to the ocean at least once a month. We don’t sit still well and are often in Manchester so I made the commitment to just do it …. and I completed the project.
There is no question that I love the healing powers of the ocean … no matter the time of year. I find it just as healing and peaceful to stand on snow covered sand and listen to the rhythm of the waves, the cries of the gulls overhead as to stand there in barefeet in the August heat joined by the squeals of children playing in the surf (in all fairness you won’t find me complaining that February’s photos were taken in Amelia Island, Florida). It is a place to find peace and healing.
At no point did I feel overwhelmed by the commitment to make it to the ocean once a month …. even during the craziness of fall carving out that one day each month to ensure I completed the mission never felt like work, it was a gift I gave myself to take time and just breathe in the salt filled air and clear my head. I think that is the biggest lesson I learned this year, to take the time and carve out some space to just be. The second biggest lesson would be, no matter the weather pack extra clothing for Chase …. because he just can’t help walking to the edge and playing in the surf!!!!
I leave you with one of my favorite poem’s about the draw of the sea (the first line is almost always rolling about in my head), as well as one of my favorite shots from each visit.
Sea Fever by John Masefield
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.
