The morning is warm and the waves are dependable. Watch as they gently beat against the chest of the beach only occasionally throwing a systolic burst — a single large wave that sprints towards the manicured green and grassy Seagrove Park. The usual crowd of surfers is gathered along these swells and race to suspend their joy in a short carriage towards the old powerhouse. Swim out past the line of black-skinned bodies and crusty waxed boards, and you can look back and watch the fading greens and the shrinking lifeguard tower compress into a miniature adornment below the cliff, along coast boulevard. One last glimpse of the distant shore, now 200 yards away, and then slipping below the surface, descend.
There are few spots along the San Diego shore where rocky mounts, reefs, and lobsters hide. But here, it is the sudden rise of the smooth sandy ocean bottom thrusting upwards towards the coast that generates the regular pulse of waves. Everywhere, the sandy bottom is covered with north-south parallel veins formed where the pulsing waves create lined patterns in the sand about 6 inches apart. In 3 meters depth, forgotten sand dollars can be found laying on their backs, bleaching in the rays of the sun that still penetrate here. An occasional sting ray darts away when approached. Beautiful shells scurry around apparently occupied by interloping crabs. Another 7 meters and the sandy bottom becomes littered with purple. Here, living sand dollars align themselves with the tide, thousands of them gathered in large pools, all standing erect with their velvety purple spines. Cousteau called this the silent world. But there is so much life, every inch aware, moving, surviving, and thriving.
Hovering motionless over these pools of purple, careful not to disturb them with a careless touch, or whipping fins. Using only breathing to control buoyancy. Dropping down closer and closer to the army of discs, an arms reach away from the bottom and staring, watching, suspended. This is a moment when your mind can drift far away and leave behind the angst of life above the surface. Water surging back and forth, gently nursing like a child in Mother’s arms. Nothing hurts. Everything is weightless. Mind, body, emotions all locked in that wet embrace, soothed, and satisfied. It is a place for healing. This moment filters away pain like the velvety spines of the sand dollars filter nutrients from the seawater. Each breath releasing tiny bubbles that first traveled throughout your body, absorbing every impression of thoughts, feelings, and spirit, and now releasing into the infinite dilution of the sea. The sea gracefully accepts these delivered impressions. Joy, fear, pain, sorrow. Healing these quiet airy confessions.
Suddenly, light from above shimmers across the sand, waking you from the trance, reminding that it’s time to leave. This gentle place remains behind, with all its loyal purple soldiers promising to stand erect, and wait for your return until they are needed again.
