This time of year, i live and breathe the beach. my cheeks feel raw with the wind throwing sand against them. my thighs sting from the friction of the saddle. my arms ache from holding up two thousand pounds of horse. i have forgotten what it is like to be warm and what a full night’s sleep feels like and what my name sounds like spoken instead of shouted across yards of sand. i am so, so alive.
But say you've inflated your soul to the size of a beach ball and it's soaking into the mystery like wine into a mattress. What have you accomplished? Well, long term, you may have prepared yourself for a successful metamorphosis, an almost inconceivable transformation to be precipitated by your death or by some great worldwide eschatological whoopjamboreehoo. You may have. No one can say for sure.
You had every right to be. He raised his eyes to look at her and she was suddenly and strangely reminded of being four years old at the beach, crying when the wind came up and blew away the castle she had made. Her mother had told her she could make another one if she liked, but it hadn't stopped her crying because what she had thought was permanent was not permanent after all, but only made out of sand that vanished at the touch of wind and water.
Once, she'd been a pro at decompressing, loved to sit on the back deck of the beach house in one of our splintery adirondack chairs for hours at a time, staring at the ocean. She never had a book or the paper or anything else to distract her. Just the horizon, but it kept her attention, her gaze unwavering. Maybe it was the absence of thought that she loved about being out there, the world narrowing to just the pounding of the waves as the water moved in and out.
The chinese word li may therefore be understood as organic order, as distinct from mechanical or legal order, both of which go by the book. Li is the asymmetrical, nonrepetitive, and unregimented order which we find in the patterns of moving water, the form of trees and clouds, of frost crystals on the window, or the scattering of pebbles on beach sand.
On the other hand, although i have a regular work schedule, i take time to go for long walks on the beach so that i can listen to what is going on inside my head. If my work isn't going well, i lie down in the middle of a workday and gaze at the ceiling while i listen and visualize what goes on in my imagination.
As far as informing the headmaster, harry had no idea where dumbledore went during the summer holidays. He amused himself for a moment, picturing dumbledore, with his long silver beard, full-length wizard's robes, and pointed hat, stretched out on a beach somewhere, rubbing suntan lotion onto his long crooked nose.
They trekked out along the crescent sweep of beach, keeping to the firmer sand below the tidewrack. They stood, their clothes flapping softly. Glass floats covered with a gray crust. The bones of seabirds. At the tideline a woven mat of weeds and the ribs of fishes in their millions stretching along the shore as far as the eye could see like an isocline of death. One vast salt sepulchre. Senseless. Senseless.
They say love dies between two people. Thats wrong. It doesnt die. It just leaves you, goes away, if you arent good enough, worthy enough. It doesnt die; youre the the one that dies. Its like the ocean: if youre no good, if you begin to make a bad smell in it, it just spews you up somewhere to die. You die anyway, but i had rather drown in the ocean than be urped up onto a strip of dead beach and be dried away by the sun into a little foul smear with no name to it, just this was for an epitaph
We shall defend our island whatever the cost may be; we shall fight on beaches, landing grounds, in fields, in streets and on the hills. we shall never surrender and even if, which i do not for the moment believe, this island or a large part of it were subjugated and starving, then our empire beyond the seas, armed and guarded by the british fleet, will carry on the struggle until in god's good time the new world with all its power and might, sets forth to the liberation and rescue of the old.
Turbulent childhood, adolescent daydreams in the drone of the bus's motor, mornings, unspoiled girls, beaches, young muscles always at the peak of their effort, evening's slight anxiety in a sixteen-year-old-heart, lust for life, fame, and ever the same sky through the years, unfailing in strength and light, itself insatiable, consuming one by one over a period of months the victims stretched out in the form of crosses on the beach at the deathlike hour of noon.