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   The self is such a vast and variable concept. My "About Me" is changing with each passing day as though it were a beach that is being reshaped by the sea's relentless waves. Perhaps this is part of why I am so fond of all things marine. The creatures are so curious- they do something I cannot. I want to know more about them and their lives beneath the surface; I want them to continue to live. People are not unlike the creatures of the sea- curious, doing things I cannot, and being things I am not. I want to study them and get to know their "About Me{'s}", see if they have similar changes. Have they considered anything at all in the ways I have? Have they looked at the waves the way I have?
    The waves, soothing and hypnotic, bring wonder with each ebb towards and flow from the beaches of the world.  I like to watch the waves and to see them change the shore by leaving something new or taking something away. I often liken the waves to the thoughts and feelings within me. Like the waves, people's thoughts and feelings shape them with each pass. Looking at them this way brings a strange beauty to traveling to other beaches. I wonder about the other people and their waves. Standing on the beach immersed in it all, it is easy to relate and succumb to the forces present there, to feel the crackle of catharsis in the air. Perhaps that is why it always feels as though something within you is changing on a beach trip. There is much to be appreciated and observed and to further embrace what the beach has to offer, I often take walks and collect shells, temporarily treasuring their beauty more than anything. (That is until the books come out.)
     There is nothing like reading a book on a towel in the sand. Imagine it: toes hanging over the edge of the towel embedded in the warm, sandy comfort that gives as you wiggle your piggies. Your mind lost in a tale as the rhythmic crashing of waves soothes your soul, and the warm, beaming sun lightly toasting your worries into something more palatable. It makes it easy to get lost in the story, as thought nature is egging you on to delve so deep into the yarn that you lose all notions of time. I suppose that's one of the joys of reading anywhere though- getting lost in time. Time and its hand in the ebb and flow of my "About Me" are constantly keeping me on my toes as I grapple with the turning of the tides. Now, the tide must flow out. Fret not, it shall return.
 

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