Beauty and Black’s Beach

1 Feb

If I were independently wealthy and never had to work a day again in my life, I would get a yellow lab, move to the Big Sur and walk on Pebble Beach every day wearing a L.L. Bean sweater. But as I don’t see this happening any time soon, I’ll settle for the fact that I live near another radically beautiful stretch of the Pacific.  

Today was one of those glorious days in San Diego where the sky is a peacock blue and the sun a perfect blend of warm and gentle. It was one of those days where no matter how much you have to do, you have to axe the agenda and drive down to the beach.

My relatives forever tease me that my favorite beach in San Diego is Blacks Beach. If you don’t know why this alarms and amuses them, Blacks Beach is supposedly a nudist beach, although I rarely see anyone there, let alone a nudist. Well, okay. Twenty years ago there would be the occasionally person au natural. My aunt Sue was once visiting me while I was in college at UCSD and I took her down the cliffs to the beach. Supposedly we passed someone naked but I was so caught up in the conversation and rugged coastline, I didn’t even notice. Bathing suit – birthday suit. It’s all the same to me.  

Anyway, I like my beaches isolated and Blacks Beach is one of the few beaches in San Diego that isn’t densely populated. This is because you can only access the beach by walking from La Jolla Shores when the tide is low enough to cut over, or by trekking down a hilly path that most people don’t enjoy walking back up. This isolation is what Blacks Beach and the Big Sur have in common and is why I love them both. The solitude amidst profound beauty penetrates deeply into my soul.

At Blacks, the cliffs get drenched in Mediterranean light reminiscent of a Cezanne painting. The water swirls in tones of deep blue and green while light dances on the waves shimmering like diamonds. The Big Sur is more mysterious and moody. The fog rolls in hugging the Cyrpus trees in a mist as magical as Avalon’s, transporting you to another realm entirely.

Oh how we need these other realms to take us deeper into ourselves and God.

For those of us growing up near the Pacific, the ties to it can be uncanny. After living in New York for five years, I suddenly started seeing the Pacific every time I closed my eyes. It wasn’t simply a nice snap shot like a post card memory. It was a haunting image – a mirage in the desert – calling me back home. It was very disconcerting. My life was in New York but the Pacific had different plans for me.  

Today, the ocean called me out again. Altering the day. And bringing me a little bit more in synch with my soul.

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