Beauty Ninja

I like blogging, and so I choose to continue. I think the focus of this blog may shift a bit- who knows. It's my sketch book.

Yesterday after a long day of work I spared myself some rush hour traffic and instead of heading East, took a 5 block detour West to the beach. Parked, wrapped up some notes for the day, then just spent some quiet alone time walking out across the vast sand to the Pacific ocean.

Being alone on the beach is a powerful experience. As I started my treck towards the sea, sand began filling my ballet flats. I have small holes in the toes of each cause I wear them so much, and the sand in my shoes would spray out from my toes with each step like little jets of white fairy dust. All those little glass grains, rubbing against my skin and polishing my tired feet.

As I made my way across the sand I felt sad that I kept constantly seeing little bits of plastic. When I was a kid you'd walk along the beach and pick up pretty sea shells with purple and orange patterns that looked like press on fingernails. Now I was picking up bottle tops, a funjun bag, a vodka bottle, a battered valentine's day mylar balloon. And it's not just big pieces- little small pieces that have been worn down by the sand and sea, just like shells. I guess for the next several hundred to thousand years all that little plastic will just be a new sort of shoreline artifact... like a clam's shells... it's our unique human contribution to the system.

The sunset was spectacular. The closer I got to the sea, the more I was enveloped in the gorgeousness of the world. The cries of the birds became louder. The crashing sounds of the waves started to rise to me. The first strong breeze of sea air hit my face with an earthy salty swoon.

Malibu looked mystical and grey and foggy in the distance... the hills rising and falling in angluar undulations to the sparkling flat water. Behind me the bluffs were steep and the sky was grey as well- but the sea was clear. I sang to myself a little and breathed the healthy air. It's amazing how you can get used to the grind of life and forget how wonderful the sensorial experience of the ocean can be... timeless, predictable and understood... but not too well. I closed my eyes and the wind blew aginst my face with god's simple mystery.