An excerpt from Gift from the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh:
We awake to soft breezes through the trees and the gentle breathing rhythm of the waves. We run bare-legged to the beach, on which lie smooth, flat shells glistening with wet from the night’s tides. The morning swim has the nature of a blessing to me, a baptism, a rebirth to the wonder and beauty of the world. We run back to tingling hot coffee on our small back porch. With legs in the sun, we plan our day.
We wash the dishes lightly with no system for there are not enough to matter. We work easily and instinctively together, not bumping into each other as we complete our tasks. We talk as we sweep, as we dry, as we put away, discussing, a person, a poem or a memory. And since our communication seems more important to us than our chores, the chores are done without thinking.
We walk the beach in silence, but in harmony, as the sandpipers ahead of us move like a corps of ballet dancers keeping time to some internal rhythm inaudible to us. Emotions are carried out to sea. We are even free of thoughts, at least of their articulation; clean and bare as whitened driftwood, empty as shells, ready to be filled up again with the impersonal sky and sea. A long afternoon soaking up the outer world. And when we are heavy and relaxed as the seaweed under our feet, we return at dusk to the warmth and intimacy of our cottage.