We were on a caffeinated birthday weekend mission to visit the Aquarium to explore the playground of the Giant Squid, my best friend's favorite animal.
(Apparently, squids aren't badass enough to be in the sea prison.)
My memory, unpredictable as ever, dropped a surprise: Monterey includes Big Sur. Not the MacOS, the real place. Thanks to its natural hot springs, I’ve been itching to explore its wild, coastal mountain pass. Esalen turned them into a luxury retreat. It’s overpriced. I’ll still go.
We explored the city. We ran 16 miles along the coast. We wandered organic grocery aisles, drawing racially curious stares. Then we detoured to a spontaneous land prison and got roared at by a domesticated lion.
That’s when it hit me, this trip was a pause. A chance to slow down and feel the peach-soft presence around us.
I watched them balance on the edge of the stained sofa in our Airbnb, finally warm. Light slid across their joy. Laughter bounced between my heart and my head. It reminded me why I live like this.
Why I tell these stories...
The beach is beautiful and dangerous. Each crashing wave strips us of our weight. Deadlines, disappointments, obligations, and now algorithms. Gone. For a moment, we’re just beings again.
Breathless, humbled.
In awe of how wide the world becomes when we let the current settle.
The ocean’s bells are ringing now.