Warning: This story contains soothing sea sounds

It occurred to me recently that there are times in our lives when we can’t be near the sea – even if we want to be. So this story, and these sounds and images are for anyone and everyone who wants (but can’t currently have) a bit of restorative sea power in their lives at this time…

Soothing sea sounds

Brindley and I walk together along this beach. Unusually we are alone. There is not another soul to be seen as far as the eye can see.

It’s wet and wild today. There’s a steady drizzle, so my already wet face is being spattered with cold rain droplets. 

I have a hood over my head and I can hear the rain hitting the fabric. Brindley presents me with half a found tennis ball. Her beach bounty. She wants me to play.

We walk over the shingle at the edge of the beach together and draw closer to the sea. The sounds of the waves breaking get louder. I can smell salty sea air and taste it on my lips. 

We stop and inspect the shingle stones. Their colours and smooth shapes never fail to delight. The plants too. Special plants – unique to this ecology. In their winter form now so some are looking decidedly worn out.

We walk together for a while in silence. With just the waves and the rain as company. 

We walk. Together. I breath in slow deliberate deep breaths, counting to five on inward breath and five on the outward, filling my lungs to encourage calm and peace in body and mind.

When I look out to sea I see we are not alone. We have had an audience! They have been watching us, and now we are watching them. We are fascinated with each other.

”When I look out to sea I see we are not alone”

I feel jubilant – and honoured to have been the sole recipient of this natural, curious greeting from the sea! I returned their acknowledgement (clumsily by comparison) with a nod and a wave.

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Comments

  1. Thank you. My post-Christmas trip to the sea is almost certainly cancelled, so this is so lovely to have. Fx

  2. An honour indeed! I’ve never managed to see a seal (let alone 2!) at Sandwich Bay, very pleasing – and I can only assume Brindley, by her silence, was oblivious to them?!

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