Mindful breathing

Those of you with good memories will remember a similar view of my feet in another month and another sea.

Due to an unforseen change in circumstances, I was left with a free weekend - and I mean truly free: no washing, no wallpaper stripping, no shopping. I had done all that so as to make myself free for the weekend. When I was working unsociable hours in the public side of the library, I would get a day off in the week. I used to jaunt out into the countryside, wherever the whim took me, and discover all sorts of places and enjoy a day for me. I don't seem to do that now I have weekends off like normal folk. But here was a gift day!

I headed straight for the sea, only twenty minutes drive away. It was still below freezing, and a brisk wind took my breath away. But down out of the wind it felt warmer. The sea was flat calm and blue, but - and I have never felt this before - it seemed to be breathing. There was a stillness, then a sort of sucking in and back, followed by an expectant pause when the stillness was radiant, and then a magnificent exhaling, followed by a foamy settling down. And the cycle started again.

I was transfixed. It really felt like a meditation, only watching the ocean's breath rather than my own. But it wasn't comfortably regular. There would long periods of shallow breaths/waves. Then, from out of nowhere, a series of satisfyingly huge ones, that made a deep reverberating boom as the weight of water crashed down. Occasionally the foam aftercrashings made thousands of little peaks that caught the sunlight and sparkled, before subsiding.

It was very like a meditation in that it was difficult not to await the arrival of the peak experiences and delight. But having seen through that little snare, it was so easy to be content and peaceful.

Eventually my gaze wandered along the length of the pebble ridge and I discovered I had company in the form of a large black bird, who seemed to be enjoying the sunshine too. And then I noticed a heat haze, like a mirage, rising off the beach. Nah, not in sub zero temperatures, surely? I stood up to see whether the distant kite flyers had lit a fire, but I couldnt see one. Weird.

Inevitably I got interested in the pebbles, and remembered the lovely St Columba's beach on Iona. These were much smaller, tiny, a centimetre or two across. I brushed away the dry top layer to find a glistening array of miniature marvels. Of course I couldn't resist taking a few with me! Just a translucent white one, oh and a pinky granite looking one, oh and one with the greeny tints reminiscent of serpentine.....

As I went back to the car with bulging pockets (camera, phone, car keys and just a few tiny pebbles!) I was looking forward to a nice cup of tea by a log fire. But apart from that, I was totally happy.