My Gifts From The Sea.....

“Perhaps this is the most important thing for me to take back from beach-living: simply the memory that each cycle of the tide is valid; each cycle of the wave is valid.”
― Anne Morrow Lindbergh, Gift from the Sea
 

Well.  The time has come.  Today I turned 40.  I a little less than a year ago I did a blog about my fears of aging, and interestingly enough, it’s taken about 9 months to get me to the place where I can write this: yep, that’s right: about the length of a pregnancy, which is by no means an accident in the way I see things today.  Each time I’ve been pregnant it’s either been a surprise, or it’s happened very quickly when I assumed it would take months.  Every single time I’ve seen 2 lines on a pregnancy test, my first thought has been the same: “I’m not ready!”  Yet, inevitably by the time the 9th month rolls around, I feel like Mike Myers in his “Fat Bastard” costume from  Austin Powers, my heartburn is like a constant raging inferno burning a hole through my esophagus, and I’m moving slower than a drunken tortoise in a slo-mo video.  I have to dig deep at that point to push past how uncomfortable I feel, and then I’m struck with the realization that I will once again be a part of the mind-blowing concept of a miraculous encounter: the birth of a new soul’s life….and I find myself ready for it….Right on time, not early, and not late.  I can’t rush it.  I find that I’m simply ready when I need to be.

Being born and raised in California, I have so many memories of the beach growing up.  I was born in the LA area but we moved when I was a year old to Mountain View in the south Bay Area (this is now referred to as “Silicon Valley”, for my fellow non-techie friends who may not have heard of it).  Mountain View is in a unique location, as it’s about 45 minutes from the coast- Santa Cruz Beaches in one direction, and the beaches of Half Moon Bay are about 45 minutes in the other direction.  I’ve been at the beach in all seasons, all kinds of weather, all stages of my life so far. I’ve watched the sunrises greet the days in bright, brilliant displays of orange and yellow.  I’ve seen the sunsets paint the twilight skies in deep hues of pink and purple and blue. I find there is something so quieting, so comforting, so renewing, so healing, so peaceful about the sacred ebb and flow of the Pacific Ocean waves... some are large and ferocious, while some are small, rolling and gentle. Their constant, steady rhythm will be the endless metronome that continues on until I take my last breath-and beyond, holding secrets and personalized treasured lessons for generations to come.

At some point in late elementary school, I went on a weekend trip with a good friend and her family to the lovely Pajaro Dunes, with views spanning from Santa Cruz to Monterey.  Saturday morning, we piled into my friend’s father’s ATV and he took us 4 wheeling all over the dunes.  Dear reader, I’m talking no seatbelts, no helmets, and certainly no cares in the world.  We rocketed at speeds that were probably in reality completely cautious and safe, but it felt like what I would compare today to the “Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom” ride at Disneyland.  We rode standing up, hanging off the roll bar with one arm, flinging the other arm around in the sky as if we were on the steepest plunging dip of a roller coaster.  Of course we did not even consider for a hot minute that it would probably be wise to, at the very least, keep our limbs inside the vehicle.  Sand and dirt flew out from beneath the powerful tires, and our small bodies were tossed from side to side as the vehicle jolted and rocked.  We laughed and screamed as the turbulent wind whipped our hair back, which was a welcome bonus, as this was the era of the “feathered” 80’s hairstyle.  I remember the adrenaline rush, the feeling of invincibility, like we would live forever, as if we were untouchable. 
 

At a junior high youth group outing one night in the early autumn, our church youth staff had buried pumpkins in the sand all over Twin Lakes Beach in Santa Cruz.  They set us free and we piled out of the church bus like clowns falling out of a clown car, in the classic combination of adolescent excitement and awkwardness.  We took off running toward the beach like the cast of “The Outsiders” in a cloud of jackets and flip flops and our knees hit the sand as we ferociously started to dig with our hands in search of pumpkins.  I remember that feeling; the rush, the thrilling freedom.  Squeals and laughter echoed in the darkness as the moonlight danced off the expansive blanket of the Pacific.  I remember the feel of the cold, damp sand in between our toes and the gritty texture on our fingers as we dug.  Like this was the most important thing in the world- and it was at that moment- the invigorating and unconventional challenge of triumphantly extracting a smooth, ribbed sphere of squash out of the ground in order to be the recipient of the prize: a ticket to Great America, the local theme park in Santa Clara.  (Which, honestly, was not that “Great”, but I hear it’s gotten better after they cleared out all the gang activity. Yay.)

In the late spring during the high school years, we bombed up the 280 freeway from our then “Suburban Silicon Valley” to San Francisco for prom.  The after-party was usually an un-organized, student-suggested, parent-free gathering on the beach in Half Moon Bay.  It was here that the girls’ $50 up-do hairstyles fell victim to the damp, dewy, salty elements of the ocean.  Expensive, damask-print Jessica McClintock dresses from the Gunny Sax Outlet on Forbes Boulevard were basically annihilated within seconds as we bolted into the frigid waves.  Seaweed wrapped around our ankles and color from our custom dyable shoes bled off the satin and into the water, leaving an unintentional tie-dyed appearance on our kitten-heels.  Guys immediately lost the deposit on their tuxes rented from “The Mens’ Warehouse” as they ripped off their French-Cuffed shirts and cast their bowties into the sea like a garter toss at a wedding. When we were adequately shivering and blue-lipped, we wrapped ourselves in towels, piled back into our late 1980’s modeled vehicles and headed for Denny’s, where we whittled the remaining hours of darkness away over cups of lukewarm coffee and shared plates of “Moons Over My Hammy.” 

A couple of years later, as a college student at a Liberal Arts University just outside of Los Angeles, my fellow collegiate friends and I frequented the beach with a fair amount of regularity.  Sometimes to lay out, sometimes to seek solace and contemplate the latest relationship status or what one was actually going to do with one’s life.  Other times it was the birthplace of concocting some amazingly “brilliant” ideas together, such as driving to Vegas for 24 hours during finals week, arriving back at school just in time to take the next final, shaking like a leaf from the caffeine overload, yet simultaneously proud of our impressive young bodies which could handle such exhaustion and still perform well on an exam.  Still other times it was to just casually waste weekend nights away, snuggled altogether under a wool serape blanket from someone’s latest pilgrimage to Mexico for a mission trip or other adventure.  We giggled and shivered as we drank cherry Slurpee’s from 7-11 by the bonfire, tossing our Del Taco and In-n-Out wrappers into the flames…..The campfire smell competing with the heavy surrounding scent of a salty-and-smoggy LA air combination. Inevitably, one of the guys would have a guitar with them (Oh, SO common for a Christian University Student!), and we would join in a laughter-laced, impromptu amateur sing-a-long session…. belting out the old seventies hits that our parents used to play when we were little: anything by The Eagles, Ambrosia, and The Steve Miller Band.  The familiar comfort and warm sweet childhood memories of home came flooding back to us.  Unified comradery swelled as our off-key voices passionately blasted the Santa Monica night sky with a mangled version of “Making Love out of Nothing at All” by Air Supply.
 
Later, after college graduation, I returned to the Bay Area once again.  It was at this point in time that my Andrew had arrived on US soil from Down Under.  We started “dating” …albeit for 5 brief weeks before getting engaged and married a few months later.  One evening we drove up CA 17 early in our first couple weeks of dating and ended up at “Pizza My Heart” in downtown Santa Cruz.  Munching on cholesterol-laden slices of pepperoni pizza on thin, grease-stained napkins, we walked down through the Ocean Beach neighborhood of town and onto the cliffs overlooking the ocean.  We stood looking out across the dark, enchanting sea stretching out for miles before us; The perfect metaphor for what was stirring in our hearts and minds, as that was the night we talked about getting married.  The expansive universe of possibility and mystery lay before us; the limitless unknowns about the future, but there was a certainty rooted in the fabric of our souls that we just sort of “knew” and felt beckoned by a force greater than ourselves- to journey through all those unknowns together.  Not in a lovesick, passionate, drunken infatuation… but more in a deep, inner intuitive knowing.  An inexplicable certainty that we shared; a cognitive confidence that was strangely yet solidly embedded in our hearts.  Almost 18 years and 7 kids later, those hours on the beach are as vivid in my mind as ever- and that inner absolute assurance we shared that night has never faded, it’s only multiplied and intensified over time.
 
At present, we recently returned home from a trip to one of our family’s favorite places ever: Kailua Beach, Hawaii.  During that trip, I sat on the beach one day, toes in the sand, watching my older four kids in the ocean.  In one of those rare, harmonious moments of sibling bliss, all four of them were laughing together, body surfing, playfully splashing each other, and frolicking with merriment as if it were Christmas morning.  At one point, all four of them piled onto a raft and rode the waves together- their shrieks and belly laughs competing only with the sound of the roaring of the waves crashing against the shore, reminding me of that invincibility I, too, felt as a child at the beach.   Later that night, under a blanket of stars in the tropical humidity, no one was disenchanted by the idea of returning to the beach for a night swim.  I rested my head on Andrew’s shoulder as we sat watching the shadows of that same assortment of kids who were once our babies.  (Well, let’s face it, they will always kinda be our “babies.”).  It was in that moment that it finally dawned on me: I’m finally embracing the ending of one decade and the commencement of another.
 
I hope I never claim to know anything “for sure”, but instead to always be open and flowing like a river, attuned to new ideas and possibilities… forever a student of life.  That being said, here’s where I’m at as of today, at the threshold of a new beginning.  (I may look back at these things in ten years and laugh because so much will have changed by then. That’s ok! It will be interesting to see where I am at that time.) For today, I’m not figuring out who I am anymore, like I was in my twenties.  For today, I’m not at war with myself as I tried to people-please my way through my early-mid thirties.  Presently, I’m “unlearning”, and as a result of that unlearning,  for today, a few pearls have been discovered among the dross.  Here are some of those pearls, some practical, and some personal.
 
For today, I’ve learned that instead of becoming pissed off and anal about my kids losing or breaking something  (i.e. sunglasses), it saves my sanity and my relationship with them to order massive bulk quantities of cheap 80’s Ray-Ban knockoffs from Oriental Trading Company….then toss like 3o pairs in our luggage for each trip and I could give a sh*t if they lose or break them on the beach.  For today, I’ve learned that instead of losing sleep over creating an organic gourmet Pinterest-worthy meal once a year, it’s far better to entertain frequently with a box of Fiddle Faddle, a package of Ding-Dongs, and a bag of Funyuns and call it good…It’s about the friendship, not about the food, after all, no one really gives a crap anyway, they just want to hang out.  (Or at least the people I want to continue to be friends with anyway!)  If I need to do a big party or an event, I have it catered and I don’t worry about it.  Period.
 
For today, I’ve learned that indulging in the many social booze-filled “Mommy’s Happy Hour” opportunities and seemingly sophisticated corporate events focused on alcohol didn’t make me glamorous and relaxed and fun…..instead, drinking just made me a shallow, insecure, miserable, toxic, depressed, pathetic hot mess.  When I chose a vacant existence in the drinking crowd, my relationships with people were totally and unfortunately grossly inauthentic….we were only really bonded through a tipsy haze of top-shelf liquor. We thought we were pretty hot sh*t, taking trips to Vegas and attending VIP events, but really we were just a big sh*tshow.  The version of myself who is present is much preferable to the version of myself who was a partier.  As a result, I’ve also learned for today that I much prefer the deep, scuba diving-type relationships as opposed to the shallow, surface-y snorkeling kind.

For today, I’ve learned the value of constantly investing in both the relationship and the teamwork of marriage.  My husband and I are equals… equal partners in parenting and in his career.  He considers his career my career, and he sees my role (as the support person/encourager) just as important as his.  He involves me in decisions, he seeks and often uses my input (which is still shocking to me), and considers his successes my successes. Most importantly, he puts “us” first, ahead of both kids and career, which continues to bind us closer and deepen our friendship.  He treats me with unbelievable love, respect and care.  But that’s another blog entirely!
 
For today, I’ve learned the importance of not making assumptions, and not having expectations on people, places and things.  For today, I’ve learned to walk away and say no to things in my life that rob me of my serenity and for today, I continue to work on balancing my responsibilities. For today, gratitude is one of the most powerful tools I have to change my thinking around something.  For today, I’ve learned that most mistakes aren’t really “mistakes”, but just the results of choices that reveal varying degrees of usefulness for my future decisions. For today, I’ve learned that the past becomes my greatest asset if I allow it to be. For today, I’ve learned it’s of paramount importance to prioritize my physical, mental and emotional health so that I can be of my highest level of service to others.  For today, I’ve learned the importance of loving with detachment, especially in parenting teens.  For today, I’ve learned the value of this winning combination: Working with an excellent therapist, and having tribes of amazing friends who love each other enough to get really honest and share experiences of personal restoration.  For today, I’ve learned with this outpouring of love and support in one’s life, the heart can truly mend and inner peace can absolutely be found.  The road to get here was, at times, painful and rocky, yet feeling healed and whole is probably one of the most satisfying “achievements” in my life to date. 
 
Aside from hoping I get the opportunity to grow old together with Andrew as we watch our kids grow up and have lives of their own, there really is nothing, as of today, that I desperately want to do. No unfulfilled dreams, no stones left unturned.  Each phase of a beach day has its’ own unique beauty, and I find myself ready to fall into the enigma awaiting me in my forties.  I’m ready for the next wave.  Right on time, not early, and not late.  Simply ready when I need to be.
 
“The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient. To dig for treasures shows not only impatience and greed, but lack of faith. Patience, patience, patience, is what the sea teaches. Patience and faith. One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach—waiting for a gift from the sea.”
― Anne Morrow Lindbergh, Gift from the Sea