Blue Spaces

We have always realized that the sand, the sound of the surf, the deep blue ocean and bright blue sky, and the fresh sea air out here are therapeutic.  A simple stroll on the beach unfailingly refreshes the spirit and relaxes the mind.  Martha recently found a news article called "What the Beach Does to your Brain" that attempted to explain this phenomenon.  Scientists have found that several factors all seem to come together out here on the seashore to change the way the brain works.

Richard Shuster, PsyD, clinical psychologist and host of The Daily Helping podcast, says first of all that, "The color blue has been found by an overwhelming amount of people to be associated with feelings of calm and peace.  Staring at the ocean actually changes our brain waves’ frequency and puts us into a mild meditative state.”  A study published in the American Association for the Advancement of Science Journal even found that blue is associated with a boost of creativity.

Another factor is the fresh sea air:  "The smell of the ocean breeze contributes to your soothed state, which may have something to do with the negative ions in the air that you’re breathing in."

Then there is the sound of the surf:  "That consistent ebbing and flowing you hear as you lie on your towel under an umbrella?  It kind of de-stimulates our brains,” says Dr. Shuster.  "The noises — coupled with the visuals — activate your parasympathetic nervous system, which is responsible for slowing us down and allowing us to relax and feel more engaged."

Finally, "the simple act of touching the sand makes you feel all fuzzy. The physical sensation of putting your feet in warm sand causes people to relax,” says Shuster.

This morning, we both woke up early, before the sunrise, and had the same idea.  Martha went out onto the dune-top deck while I started the coffee maker.  The sky was already beginning to glow in rose-colored hues.  Our brain-wave frequencies were already beginning to change!  And those negative ions - what a wonderful smell!  The sea gulls were out early, swooping down low over the ocean.

 
Others gathered, too, along the beach to watch this simple, elemental phenomenon of the sun rising out of the ocean, something that we do not see from our valley in the mountains.  And there it was, partially obscured by thin clouds on the horizon, as glorious as ever, and right on time as always.

When you get up for the dawn, the day seems so much longer and more luxurious.  This was a perfect day for strolling on the beach, for sunning in a chair, and for observing the gulls and the brown pelicans singing overhead.  Nothing more.  Our day was circumscribed by no appointments other than sunrise (6:32 a.m.), sunset (7:32 p.m.), and the tides.  This tide-clock hangs on the wall and tells us the best time to go walk on the beach.

Several years ago, I bought a clock exactly like this and gave it to Martha as a Christmas present; it hangs in our kitchen over the back door.  She had the same idea, and gave me a tide clock, too, although not this one but a brass one, which is in the upstairs hall outside of our bedroom.

So now we know what the tide is doing, so far away, from our mountain valley.  Sunrise and sunset, low tide and high tide, these parameters that never change.