The Sea has restorative powers. We come to the Sea to breathe.”
“Many many years ago, while beach-walking with my young daughter, a new story came to life. We were walking, talking, looking for beach treasures, discussing the waves. We would excitedly scurry up to partially buried sand dollars only to find just a broken portion. The partial ones my daughter would bring to me, I would throw as far into the breakers as I could, assuring her that part of the magic of the Sea was that the mermaids would heal them, putting them back together to continue their journeys, so they could again be found on the beach another day. Rather like the magic of the Sea that allows the starfish to grow a new arm.
In the days that followed my Dad’s death in early March, I was bereft and drifting. I came to our beloved beach with my family but I was distant the whole time. Every morning I walked for miles on the beach, thinking, remembering, talking to the waves, crying, mourning. I wasn’t able to allow the Sea air to fill my lungs, to revive me. To heal me. One morning I was treated to the most whole-sand dollar finds I’d had in my entire life of beachcombing. It was remarkable; I saved about 20 of the best ones, left some at the beach house, some at my Mom’s house; carried a few home with me.
A hundred days later, I returned and walked on the same beach, followed the same path Dad and I had often walked while talking and watching the waves. I was treated to characteristically calm Manzanita mornings, and my walks this visit have been more peaceful, more restorative. I could finally breathe.This visit has yielded one single perfectly whole sand dollar.I held it, read it, sensed that my Dad was reminding me to give myself permission to Breathe. To continue my journeys and be able to find myself on the beach another day. To continue to work to become a good and decent man. To keep moving. And perhaps to keep casting sand dollars back into the breakers.
I have miles to go.”
—G.
Photo by Karl Robb 
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Expression and making our voice heard is hard enough but if you throw in a neurological wrench like Parkinson’s disease, a whole host of challenges can arise. Some of us speak softly while others may find it difficult to form words or sentences. Our words are often judged be it vocabulary or elocution. But, real expression goes beyond the boundary of words as the transcendence of understanding relates to us through the mediums of photography, oils, pencil, music, film, video, and a host of other outlets.