Alas, after a long weekend at the beach, I’ll soon be homeward bound. Don’t get me wrong. I love my home, neighborhood, family, and friends, but there’s no beach there. There’s no roaring ocean, no high and low tides, no seabirds, no long expanse of coastline to walk along. Instead, there are also deadlines and due dates and bills to pay.
I had an ice cream sandwich for lunch Friday. Or maybe it was more like an appetizer since I ate a Chick-fil-A sandwich mid-afternoon. I live differently when I’m here at the beach. It’s where I come to get away from my other life, the one with schedules and deadlines and demands. At the strand, I try to leave as much of that behind as possible, especially when it comes to behavior and attire.
My behavior doesn’t change drastically here at the beach. It’s not like I turn into some wild child who frequents clubs and bars. Nope. I’m the same old Jayne, just Jayne without the constraints of home. If I want to go shopping at the Myrtle Beach Wal-Mart at midnight, I will (and have). If I want to read at 11:00 in the morning, I will. For some reason, reading just for fun is something I see as sort of a guilty little pleasure when I’m in my “other life,” and I usually restrict times for fiction reading to early in the morning or late at night. Maybe it’s because I’m always in motion, always taking care of business.
I dress a bit differently at the beach too. Since any and everyone reading this probably does the same thing, there’s no need to elaborate on this. And yet, here’s one little thing that I just have to mention. I’ve seen more exposed body parts on the beach that I ever cared to see. You know what I’m saying, right?
And tattoos? I learned what a “full sleeve” means from one of my students last week, and I saw several of those. Then there was that lovely young woman with her entire calf covered, front and back. What was she thinking? Or was she thinking? Putting a positive twist on things, when she’s older, at least she’ll have a good disguise for her spider veins!
But it’s fine. It’s really fine. Once a person crosses the line between sea oats and sand, it’s anything goes (almost). Most days I’ll don a bathing suit and hat, and at the last minute I’ll throw on a cover up. It stays on until I cross the line and then stays in my bag until I get ready to cross it again. In the words of Anne Morrow Lindbergh, “One learns first of all in beach living the art of shedding; how little one can get along with, not how much.”
Time to get back to reality. After all, it’s my “other life” that makes this one possible.
3 thoughts on “The Art of Shedding”
I really, really like the photo! The art of shedding at the beach really does consists of leaving your “cares” for another time and place!
Thanks Connie. I was almost (but not quite!) speechless when I saw this scene. The lighting was absolutely perfect, and I took several of the same whereabouts.
My perfect trip to the beach, would consist of shedding everything! I would like to first begin by shedding noise…no talking, not by myself and certainly shedding voices of others. Then of course I would shed the television, Facebook and radio. I would just like to be alone and be able to read all day long in a beautiful hammock.
Yes, I am certain that I need a vacation, I am tired of work, and school. Since my vacation isn’t until the last week in July, maybe I should buy a hammock, and find two trees in the backyard to read a day away. Bliss!
That sounds good for starters, but I'm wondering how long it would be before someone found you in the backyard.
Love the photo! I think “shedding” is necessary for survival. There is a sad place in my heart for all those who never get, or never take, the opportunity to “shed.”
Me too Christy. I think this is something every woman can understand all too well.