Tobago Cays, St. Vincent & The Grenadines
What is the attraction of beaches? Why are they so inviting? Why do we long for their solace when seeking rest or rejuvenation?
Certainly they represent the crucial boundary which humans have faced since we first encountered the seas. Here, land ends. But here, too, is that mysterious horizon which draws us outward, the unknown which lies beyond the horizon, and the unfathomable which lies below the water. Such is the seduction that serenading waves become siren’s calls.
On the beach, we are forced to contemplate; what lies beyond and what rests within. We come to beaches to gaze, to dream, to chart hopes and cast off cares. Issac Dinesen once wrote, “Salt water is the cure for all ills: tears, sweat, or the sea.” It has long been prescribed as a seaside cure. To breathe the soft balmy air. To dare going barefoot. To test the waters. Yielding sand beneath your feet as the sea seems to tug at your spirit.
Tropical beaches especially have become the advertizing icon of the carefree. Benign isolation by design. Beyond interruption. Soft lapping waves, white sand, rustling palm trees: a perfect recipe for rest. Perhaps we seek a temporary marooning from the work-a-day world. A castaway from the clutter and tumult of the quotidian. A hammock, a book and a beer — who could resist? Barefoot in the surf, floral patterned shirt flapping; Jimmy Buffet tune or reggae rhythms coursing through your head.
Beaches beg a peripatic inventory. Wonders are often transported here: flotsam and jetsam from far-off lands, vanished vessels, exposed treasure. Beaches must be combed and booty collected. Pearls, shells, bottles with messages, wrecks, or at least sea glass – all await. It is a profession which at times many have longed for.
Northern beaches embrace the gale and storm. And we timidly inspect its churning, hoping to be cleansed or invigorated by the rawness. We brood when the sea does.
Physicians tells us that our blood cells tumble about in a plasma which is the chemical consistency of the sea. We came from and are still drawn back to it. Perhaps our pulse yet rises with the tides. Tropical salty waters feel amniotic, primal. Some scientists speculate that much of human evolution may have taken place by the sea’s edge. Here, food was protein-rich and easily gathered. Arguments can be made for humans being essentially an aquatic ape.
So many island nations of the Caribbean boast flags of green, blue and white, or yellow.
All are emblematic of the blue waters, white sands, warm sun, and verdant vegetation. Beaches give a strange sense of possession, however fleeting. Whether renegade or baron of the beach, we own it by our presence. Feel master of what we survey. We build temporary castles and plant flags of our own design.
In the end we must simply accept that the lure of beaches is beyond analysis or dissection. They beckon and always have. We seek them and revel in their ineffable qualities. That is all we need or care to know.
What is the attraction of beaches? Why are they so inviting? Why do we long for their solace when seeking rest or rejuvenation?
Certainly they represent the crucial boundary which humans have faced since we first encountered the seas. Here, land ends. But here, too, is that mysterious horizon which draws us outward, the unknown which lies beyond the horizon, and the unfathomable which lies below the water. Such is the seduction that serenading waves become siren’s calls.
On the beach, we are forced to contemplate; what lies beyond and what rests within. We come to beaches to gaze, to dream, to chart hopes and cast off cares. Issac Dinesen once wrote, “Salt water is the cure for all ills: tears, sweat, or the sea.” It has long been prescribed as a seaside cure. To breathe the soft balmy air. To dare going barefoot. To test the waters. Yielding sand beneath your feet as the sea seems to tug at your spirit.
Tropical beaches especially have become the advertizing icon of the carefree. Benign isolation by design. Beyond interruption. Soft lapping waves, white sand, rustling palm trees: a perfect recipe for rest. Perhaps we seek a temporary marooning from the work-a-day world. A castaway from the clutter and tumult of the quotidian. A hammock, a book and a beer — who could resist? Barefoot in the surf, floral patterned shirt flapping; Jimmy Buffet tune or reggae rhythms coursing through your head.
Beaches beg a peripatic inventory. Wonders are often transported here: flotsam and jetsam from far-off lands, vanished vessels, exposed treasure. Beaches must be combed and booty collected. Pearls, shells, bottles with messages, wrecks, or at least sea glass – all await. It is a profession which at times many have longed for.
Northern beaches embrace the gale and storm. And we timidly inspect its churning, hoping to be cleansed or invigorated by the rawness. We brood when the sea does.
Physicians tells us that our blood cells tumble about in a plasma which is the chemical consistency of the sea. We came from and are still drawn back to it. Perhaps our pulse yet rises with the tides. Tropical salty waters feel amniotic, primal. Some scientists speculate that much of human evolution may have taken place by the sea’s edge. Here, food was protein-rich and easily gathered. Arguments can be made for humans being essentially an aquatic ape.
So many island nations of the Caribbean boast flags of green, blue and white, or yellow.
All are emblematic of the blue waters, white sands, warm sun, and verdant vegetation. Beaches give a strange sense of possession, however fleeting. Whether renegade or baron of the beach, we own it by our presence. Feel master of what we survey. We build temporary castles and plant flags of our own design.
In the end we must simply accept that the lure of beaches is beyond analysis or dissection. They beckon and always have. We seek them and revel in their ineffable qualities. That is all we need or care to know.
