Come to the Water

there are a few constant truths in my life, and it always amazes me when I forget them. or, if not forget, then push them to the side. it all makes sense at the time; it's inconvenient, or it'll cost money I don't have, or I don't have a day off, or whatever. but I really should know better by now. I DO know better. sometimes I just make poor choices based on malaise or convenience or just plain laziness. because rule number one is not "the doctor lies", it is "go to the beach". or any shoreline, really - sand does not actually have to be involved. there is something about being in a place that's a crossroads of all the elements - it centers me in a way nothing else does. I may have only been on the beach for a few hours last sunday, reading and sitting and then wandering around, but those few hours rebooted me entirely. things I'd been thinking over and worrying about and meditating on for weeks or months just melted away into clear answers. or maybe not clear answers, exactly, but certainly a calmer acceptance of where I am and how to deal with it. or not deal with it and just be. because apparently being beachside makes me into a yoda-like zen master. at least for a little while. and when wears off and I go back to being anxiety-girl, could you kindly order my excuse-finding ass back to the beach? thanks.