LETTING GO

Nothing like the seaside says to your whole soul, “let it go”. The rumble and roll of the ocean, then the calm of a retreating wave. And, wait for it… wait for it…another rumble and roll decrescendos to a flat, smooth,  “pshhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

When we changed home states in July my battle cry was “Life on Vacation,” and that went well all summer long. Hold the projects, productivity step aside, I’ve been all about playing with our children and making memories. The kids aren't getting any younger. Maybe I'm not either.

Now, three months later with school, work, and church responsibilities filling our hours, I’m scratching my head and wondering if the doubtfilled world was right after all about living life on vacation…year round… with 6 kids under the roof. And yet, I WILL NOT YIELD!

Drive it back into a corner, shave it close, reduce it to its meanest terms and then answer me, what makes a vacation a vacation? It’s giving yourself permission to leave it all behind. To let it go. It’s clearing your mind and your days in a few broad strokes of the deadlines and to do’s… to breathe first in, then out again, and then repeat. To observe, to laugh, become more mindful and love more deeply, just because you can. But it starts with letting go..

Repeat with me. “I effortlessly let go. I am free.” Then feel an ocean wave wrap up around your ankles, hang motionless for a moment, and then retreat, drawing with it all the bunched up tension, all hurry, all heaviness. For this moment…you and I are free.

As a recovering workaholic led by immense desire to pioneer a more funfilled life, I still carry a banner for “Life On Vacation”.  So, on the last holiday weekend before winter’s chill freezes central Oregon, I took the kids camping at the beach.

It began with a challenge from our eldest son Tanner to unplan the weekend.  “Pardon me, are those plans and expectations lurking up your sleeve Mom?" Let em go girl. Let. Them. Fly!

We took our sweet time getting there, (not our native mode of transport) stopping for snacks, brunch, 11’sees and late, late lunch. Whatever we saw that drew us we followed it; like a canine family chasing butterflies.  Living in the moment with the last fall berries along the roadside… playing on a rope swing out over a surprise lake, and exploring along it’s shore.

It was foggy, cold and just about dusk when we rolled into South Beach State Park to set up camp and bed down for the night. You never can tell with butterfly chasers, exactly when you'll get there.

It felt like we were Boxcar Children setting up a makeshift home in a strange land. Our site backed up to the ocean under towering cypress trees all knarled and hunched like giant loyal wild things protecting us from danger in the coming night. The boys went right to work setting up shelters while the girls made dinner, kale cranberry salad with sunseeds and gyoza dumplings. No popcorn and carrot sticks for dinner tonight kids!

Everyone was cheerful, even electric with excitement that for the first time in Oregon, we were at the ocean. We giggled more softly as neighbors shushed us. Hey, it’s 9pm and WE ARE ON VACATION!

We dove into the tent just as the rain began dancing on the rainfly. My sleeping pad was thin enough that I lay awake listening to the cadence of the rain.  And then of the fog horn. After half an hour I clocked it in my head. “One banana, two banana…Yep, 10 seconds”. 10 seconds on the warning blast about the rocky jetty into Newport Harbor. 

At 3am I was awake again with the sound of harbor sea lions barking on the beach. How cool was this? Campout AND a show! I unrolled two spare sleeping bags to get more padding and snuggled back in til morning.

At South Beach, nearly a quarter mile of dune separates the campground from the oceans roar. The dune didn't exist until Newport jetty was built blocking the natural movement of ocean sand up and down the coast. Over the last 50 years this 1/4 mile of new real estate has gathered and encouraged its own tundra; in the oldest part a cypress forest and then huckleberry bushes, merging down to a sea of tall grasses that carpet the dunes until at last they part and the white sand stretches out to the great deep blue. It is equal parts stunning and adventurous. We found deer, sea birds, a great owl and friendly red mushrooms hiding in the forest and grasses.

We needed no other diversion, and we really did nothing else but play in camp and on the beach. I cannot tell a lie, I DID gather a handful of cool local attractions to see and do from people in the know. But effortlessly letting go of that list made space for everyone to breathe in and then out, repeatedly…all weekend long.

We tidepooled around the boulders of the jetty, flew kites on the beach and chased the waves all day long, returning to camp only for want of food or sleep. Scratch that, we totally napped on the dunes and grazed on beach food when our people food ran out...wild huckleberries, seaweed samples and even some sushi (4 new inductees to the Raw Jellyfish Eaters Club. Woot, woot.)

Eureka! We’d recaptured the rhythm of life on vacation, and it’s stayed with us for several weeks now. And when life becomes a drill again, I’m learning the magic trick of effortlessly letting go the list.

Never say die my friends! Vacation is a gift you give yourself. But don’t wait a week, month or year to give it. If you are a dedicated “press forward” person like me, or even if you're not, go ahead. Power nap, stare out the window, sing at full throttle to the walls, do something that recreates you…heaven knows, the list will wait. When you return to what must be done you’ll be resonating at a much higher frequency, closer to joy, which is our native frequency by design.

So, here’s to a little more “life on vacation” for you and me both!