April 3, 2026

For the record, I do not go to the beach to relax.

I go to the beach to reckon. To think. To process big feelings.

Contemplating the ocean itself is as scary to me as those photographs of icebergs showing all the ice below the waterline. Very, very scary.

So at the beach, I walk. I watch the dogs and the kids and the fisherman. I do not want to learn to surf. I have no intention of going in. Sometimes, if the day is very warm, I’ll walk along the edge barefoot, but that’s as far as I’m going.

Over time, I’ve gotten less afraid of being at the ocean’s edge, but it’s still far from my “happy place.”

I had absolutely forgotten this about myself when I decided to be part of the human banner at Ocean Beach last weekend, and then I noticed myself ruminating about the schedule:

“It’s 10:30 now, we’re supposed to be ready for instructions by 11, picture’s at 11:30, disperse by 12 or 12:30.”
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Two hours at the beach is LONG time for me. Walking myself through the plan (again and again) was reassuring me that I could do this.

Before long, I had met up with my friends and we found our places on the left hand side of the O of “NOW,” several hundred people in from the sea. Together with 7,000 humans and the happiest of dogs, I almost forgot I was standing at the edge of the world.

I am from a land-locked state, and exceedingly comfortable with rivers and mountains. That landscape and I have reached an understanding.

I have no such understanding with the ocean, and I’ve decided, that’s okay.
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My time in California so far has been a 31 year-long opportunity to practice managing my anxiety. I’m honestly grateful for that!
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​When you find yourself stretching your comfort zone, try reminding yourself of the plan. See if that doesn’t calm you down.

As ever, your Idahoan in Berkeley,

Michèle