One of the new things that we did whilst on holiday in Florida was stay a few days on the coast, away from the fast-paced, action-packed, dashing here and there, four-parks-in-a-day, kind of a life that we can sometimes lead in Orlando. And very nice it was too. Mind you, as Florida coastal holiday novices, we weren't going to veer to far away from what we knew, and so we stuck with the Disney familiar, and stayed at their DVC property at Vero Beach.
It took us a little while to adjust, which in some ways was a shame, as we only had a few days there before heading back to Orlando, and truth be told, I'm not sure if they boys entirely got it. Perhaps they would have preferred to stay closer to the action for the entire fortnight. Anyway, on the afternoon of our second day, Nicky and I went off in search of what we thought Vero Beach should be - a genteel, and quietly upmarket coastal resort, confident of its place in Florida society.
It was hard to find, but eventually we found something that looked like it pretty much fitted the bill. However, it turned out that it closed at 5pm, and we'd arrived just after. Thankfully there were one or two places still open, and it will certainly be somewhere to go back to next time.
In particular, we went into a store called "Exclusively Coastal", where Nicky bought some smellies, and after a rummage around, I came out with a book (yes, I know, what a surprise!).
The book is called "Gift from the Sea" and was written during a coastal holiday in Florida, albeit a holiday on the Gulf coast rather than the Atlantic coast. It was written, in 1955, by Anne Morrow Lindbergh (wife of aviator Charles Lindbergh), and using the shells she finds by the seashore as a starting point, reflects on various aspects of life, and it is a actually a rather lovely read. Just occasionally one is aware that this is a book written almost 60 years ago, but more often than not, it seems to have something to say to us today, especially when it comes to the distractions of the busy lives that we all lead.
It's a short book, and well worth a read. If anyone fancies a borrow, just let me know.
The shortest chapter by far is the first, and, just to give you an idea of the book, here it is:
1. The Beach
The beach is not the place to work; to read, write or think. I should have remembered that from other years. Too warm, too damp, too soft for any real mental discipline or sharp flights of spirit. One never learns. Hopefully, one carries down the faded straw bag, lumpy with books, clean paper, long over-due unanswered letters, freshly sharpened pencils, lists and good intentions. The books remain unread, the pencils break their points and the pads rest smooth and unblemished as the cloudless sky. No reading, no writing, no thoughts even - at least, not at first.
At first, the tired body takes over completely. As on shipboard, one descends into a deck-chair apathy. One is forced against one's mind, against all tidy resolutions, back into the primeval rhythms of the seashore. Rollers on the beach, wind in the pines, the slow flapping of herons across sand dunes, drown out the hectic rhythms of city and suburb, time tables and schedules. One falls under their spell, relaxes, stretches out prone. One becomes, in fact, like the element on which one lies, flattened by the sea; bare, open, empty as the beach, erased by today's tides of all yesterday's scribblings.
And then, some morning in the second week, the mind wakes, comes to life again. Not in a city sense - no - but beach-wise. It begins to drift, to play, to turn over in gentle careless rolls like those lazy waves on the beach. One never knows what chance treasures these easy unconscious rollers may toss up, on the smooth white sand of the conscious mind; what perfectly rounded stone, what rare shell from the ocean floor. Perhaps a channelled whelk, a moon shell or even an argonaut.
But it must not be sought for or - heaven forbid! - dug for. No, no dredging of the sea bottom here. That would defeat one's purpose. The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient. To dig for treasures shows not only impatience and greed, but lack of faith. Patience, patience, patience, is what the sea teaches. Patience and faith. One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach - waiting for a gift from the sea.