I’ve lived by the beach most of my life. Whenever life got too hectic or I felt everything was a bit too much, I would run there to finding the calm in the rhythmic coming and going of waves crashing on the sand. As a young adult, running at the beach as the sun was rising, prepared me for the coming day. It was my paradise, my oasis, a place to myself.
Eventually, work and love led me to places where I couldn’t reach the ocean every morning, nor every week or month. And as I “lost” the space in which I found a calmer, more relaxed self, in which I could contemplate life and myself, I found the oasis that inhabits in the mind. It was hard for some time, but eventually I got it; I found what was there all along: music.
I am not a musician. I grew up attending church, singing at church and school events. I learned the piano but I was a mediocre player. In spite of this, I feel as though there is a constant music playing in my head. I find myself humming often. I still imagine going to the beach while I daydream, but now I also imagine clear springs, green pastures, horseback riding in a sunny day, … but the only constant in all scenarios remains music.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Oasis.”