Sea – When Life Gives You Lemons

Having nagged Mariia for months to adopt a meditation practice, on Sunday, she asked if we could could do one at the beach and listen to the waves. It was a glorious day and the temperatures well above average, so why not?

What I hadn’t realised was that the extremely high winds were wreaking havoc all along the coast. Upon our arrival at the beach, we noticed pebbles had been thrown up onto the promenade and the shore carved into mountains and valleys of shingle.

**Beauty and the beast**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

It was certainly fresh. The tang of salt water and sea weed immediately assaulted our nostrils and the sheer energy of the crazy air stirred in us an equal excitement. The extra effort required to reach the beach against the opposition of the wind made our arrival there extra sweet.

Tuning in

Having found a spot in the sun and close to the protection of the groynes, we lay back and enjoyed the sea’s symphony. The bass of the powerful waves pounding the shoreline was most distinct. Above that was the tenor of the wind whipping across its surface. And if you listened carefully, you could hear the susurration of the tiny pebbles grating against the water’s edge.

The sea drowned out all other noises. Even the gulls could not be heard over the din it made.

**Enjoying the deserted beach**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Sunlight played on our closed eyelids and, snuggled in several layers and a Dryrobe, I could imagine myself on a Caribbean island rather than the edge of the Atlantic. Protected from the wind, only gentle puffs of wind caressed my cheeks. It was bliss. My mind emptied of all but the sounds of the sea: a cherished moment of respite from an active mind.

Observational studies

After about half an hour, I wanted to watch the scene as well as listen. So I sat up and observed. The sea was charging the shore like a bull a matador – full of fury and pent up energy. No sooner did a wave make land than it would pull back and hurl itself once more. Gradually, it was working its way towards us, pushing a mound of sea foam at its vanguard.

Various gulls flew across the grey, their bellies and underwings silvered with sunlight. And the black groynes, facing West, looked like ancient standing stones set against the faint light of the sinking sun.

For a while, we felt as though we had stepped out of time, of our busy worlds and into something much more ancient and elemental.

Sea snow

Adding to the magical quality of our visit was the abundance of sea foam. Only when the seas are at their wildest do the seas create foam that floats through the air in great blobs like giant snow flakes. When I first witnessed it, I was thoroughly confused. How could snow descend in a clear blue sky? Now I know better, but despite clearly explaining its provenance to Mariia, she couldn’t help finding out for herself and getting a little wet in the process.

**Sadly, not snowball making material**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

And it was wonderful to see her embracing her curiosity and letting go of worldly cares – just as we had. I’m hoping it will encourage her to meditate – in whatever location – rather more often.

Time to go

With the sun setting, it was time to head back.

**The pier at sunset** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

A few pictures taken, I was ready to scale the substantial cliff face of scree. By the end, I found it easier to crawl than walk – but I got there and as a bonus, I found an unusual and intact shell waiting for me at the top.

I love the objects to be found on the beach: shells, hag stones, driftwood. There is something otherworldly about them. Having pocketed my treasures, we headed home to hot cocoa and the joy of central heating. But, I shall keep my shell as a talisman to remind me that the sea is always waiting, with its magical ability to transform our troubles to airy nothings.

**Souvenirs of the sea**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

When I was thirteen, my family moved to Eastbourne. I felt like Charlie Bucket unwrapping his chocolate bar to reveal the golden ticket. Could it be true that I was actually coming to live in a resort that I had once visited on holiday? My life would be a permanent vacation!

Eastbourne on a perfect day Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Of course, it was not exactly that, but it was an amazing place to grow up. My friend and I would venture into the sea and exalt at being tumbled by the freezing waves; I would go on romantic walks along the proms lit by pearl necklaces of light; and weekends often involved hikes high on the cliffs and facing down the unrelenting wind.

I grew up, moved away and across the world, but when it came to having my own children, like the salmon, I swam back here. If I could raise my children in a place with acres of wilderness and the sea minutes away, what more could they ask for?

Sea bathing

Though sea bathing, as a health cure, began as early as the 17th century, it wasn’t until the late 18th that things really took off. And when the railways arrived, a trip to the seaside was available and affordable to almost everyone. There is a lovely article about the Victorians and the seaside here, which you might enjoy: https://www.ironbridge.org.uk/learn/museum-collections/stories-from-the-collections/victorian-seaside/

But I digress.

One of the great joys of living so close to the sea is that, on a fine day, I can be there in minutes. If my husband is home, the weather fine and the sea moderately calm, we might attempt a swim. (I should add that my husband swims and surfs in all weathers. I, however, am a little more delicate!) Perfect conditions collided on Tuesday and my first swim of the year achieved.

Not quite as elegant, but I think my costume was more practical (I did take my shorts off!)

Swimming for health

It is rather curious, is it not, how circular history is? Sea swimming was promoted for health centuries ago, then it became a recreation and now, once again, is being seen for its significant healing properties thanks to Wim Hof et al. Since I have written about the benefits of sea/wild swimming, I shan’t go into detail again, but be assured that a dip in chilly and potentially dangerous waters creates resilience in a way that few other experiences can.

Health aside, it is simply exhilarating. One is challenged by the temperature of the sea (cold to freezing), the power of the tides and the unpredictable assault of the waves. It is relatively safe, yet we get all the thrill of the extreme athlete!

There are those who enjoy sea swimming all year round, but I am not (not yet at least) on of them.

A place for all seasons

But the coast offers its treasures no matter what the time of year. Those of us who live here often confess to enjoying the sea most during the winter months. The sea becomes a grey behemoth spitting and snarling at the water’s edge. And when it gets really angry, great sponges of seafoam and pebbles are tossed onto the mainland.

The flora of the coast is more subtle and sparse than that on more fertile ground, but even the chalkland can put on an eye-catching display. There are cowslips and wild thyme and even orchids to be found. On the pebbles, I’ve spotted wild geraniums, sea kale and even poppies.

Within the rockpools are whole worlds of creatures and on land rare butterflies and beetles. The coast does not give up its secrets easily, but give it a little attention and you will be surprised and delighted with what you find.

A natural anti-depressant

At a time when anxiety and depression is spiralling out of control, I really wish that doctors would prescribe fewer drugs and more trips to the seaside. If ever I am feeling troubled, a walk by the sea is all I need. The wind scrubs my cheeks; whips my hair into knots and cleanses my lungs with bracing, briny air. If it rains, no matter; it is just more water. There isn’t room for any thought but getting through the elements. And against the backdrop of such magnificence, our petty worries seem small indeed.

**Sea of tranquillity** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

And perhaps this is the greatest gift that the coast can give. It’s very magnitude and power leave us gasping in awe. If we still our thoughts and concentrate on what is before us, we grasp, briefly, a sense of communion with the universe. It is both humbling and uplifting.

Though writing about a rural landscape, I think that Wordsworth’s words fit equally well in describing the effect of the sea upon the viewer.

Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood,
In which the burden of the mystery
In which the heavy and weary weight
Of all this unintelligible world,
Is lightened (37-41).

From :’Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey’:

If only for a moment, ‘the heavy and weary weight’ is lifted and such a release is sometimes all we need to bring us back into balance.

We are blessed to live on an island where the coast is never more than 70 miles away. Our coastline is, with few exceptions, all public and accessible. A short trip is all we need to make to refresh our bodies and our minds. And this weekend? I think you know where I’m heading.

Tag: Sea

Wild Weather Meditation