I love my mountains, the solitude of the impossibly blue sky above your head, lightly sprinkled with fluffy clouds, feeling the forest growing around you. Something in the mountains has always kept a part of my spirit, my self, feeding it back to me at each visit. It's immediately cleansing and soothing to my soul to feel the solitude, the silence, the earth doing what it does best, and to know that out here, I am merely me, and my problems and trials are so small.
That's how I feel about the ocean, only more. There's something about the ocean that has always called to me. The waves, with their gentle sighs, give and take the edge of the sand, always changing it. The sound is like the heartbeat of the universe, calling out to me, begging me to let go of my negative emotions, to let the waves carry them out. The wind ruffles my hair, like the gentle breath of a loving parent. The wind, the sea birds' cries, the waves, all take the toxins from my soul, my spirit, cleansing me; I can breathe, I can think, I can daydream. The gentle sun, warm on my skin, is like a caress; not the caress of a lover, but the soothing, calming caress of a friend, a partner, a parent. Warm, safe, and comforting. I may leave the mountains feeling a little forlorn; after all, I've left a piece of myself there to fly with the eagles. I always leave the beach feeling energized, ready to tackle my life.