At the ocean. Where things make more sense, and my lungs are all like, “whoa, we haven’t had this much air in a long time, so thank you for that.”
Sometimes I hold my breath. I mean obviously, I breathe enough to be alive, but not deep into the crevices that should be expanded, and that I’ve found through yoga, need attention.
The Cape is very different in pre-season. It’s quieter and more how I wish it really were. There are times I think it’s fun to feel the energy, smell the Coppertone, and hear the cacophony of crying babies and Kadema on a crowded beach day, but I much prefer the sound of the waves to the sound of people. It’s like oxygen.
Holding onto the chatter of nature and ocean. The good stuff.