the beach walk

The history:
I went to college on the central coast of california. Apparently "central coast" is not a universally known term, so perhaps this will help. In my senior year (that's 4th year) I got a car, and discovered Montana de Oro state park. Specifically, a place that I know only as "sandspit beach". It's a long strip of sand, I think I estimated it to be 4 or 8 miles long. I don't remember. I'd hop in the car at sunrise on a weekend, pop in my CD of beethoven's 9th symphony, skip to the second movement, and by the time it started getting really good I'd be at the beach. I walked from one end to the other (almost - the entrance was a couple hundred yards from the bounding cliffs). It took at least 4 hours. I loved the feel of the sand on my feet (along the length of the beach there were several very different varieties of sand - from soft hard kill-your-calves to big sharp I'll-cut-you-man!). I loved the sun. I loved the sound, the smell, the entire experience. And since it was about the only exercise I got back then, I loved the exercise. And I loved the big greasy cheeseburger I'd get afterwards. I made this walk into a habit. I took photographs once or twice, but a photograph doesn't capture much.

The Mystery:
This is where things get a little weird. I have this sense that in addition to the sensual experience, there was also some deep spiritual connection between me and that beach. Phrases like "holy place" and "home" come to mind when I think of the place. I have the idea that my soul is at peace and my mind is at rest and so forth. The problem with all this is that I don't quite believe it. I don't believe it because in spite of my great interest in things spiritual, I still don't know if I believe any of it. And not only that, I have a suspicion that these feelings and "memories" are not authentic, but are a product of my dissatisfaction with my current situation. In other words, classic Golden Age Syndrome. Things kinda suck now, so I imagine they were better back in college. And to really put a point on it, I focus all my Golden Age attention on a single place and experience. In other words, instead of a rather pleasant walk with some nice scenery, I "remember" some hokey mystical experience that never really happened.

Some rationality, at last:
So my plan for this week is to find out. Do I really feel some spiritual connection with this beach, and if so, is that reason to move back to a place that has pretty low opportunity for employment? Or did I just make all this up in the last couple of years? Of course, I plan to get some nice photos and some sore calves and some tender foot-soles and a whole hell of a lot of off-the-job-relaxation, but those are just secondary to what I really hope to accomplish.

Good God, I think too much. Why can't I just take a walk on a beach?