Well, 54 years ago today I was born just a few miles up the road from this beach at South Coast Hospital in Laguna Beach. Today I am headed to the Dana Strand parking lot at about 8. Skies are overcast. When I get to the parking lot, I head for a 7.5 mile run to the Dana Point Harbor via Heritage Park and then back via Cove Road. By the time I get back on top of the bluff, skies East of the coast are clearing up. Saddleback Mountain is surrounded by blue sky. West of the shore line, there are scattered splotches of blue but still mostly grey. Welcome to the Southern California coast in July (and June and May)!

After my run I changed into my swim trunks in the bathroom and then headed down the stairs for my swim. The ocean surface was still pretty smooth and the surf is still down today. The jr. lifeguards are back today after their mysterious disappearance last week. Their white canopy shelters are scattered about the North side of the beach.

I head out past what little surf there is and begin to head South. Like yesterday, my head and heart feel heavy this morning. I focus on my breath traveling through the water. The breath is something I can always depend on. It is always with me - a grounding force connecting me with what is right in front of me. My mind fills with fears and fantasies that are embellishments of what was and what may come in a space where I will never, nor have ever, taken a breath. My breath is mine, given as a gift of life itself. It sustains me along a thread running through every moment I ever existed. I have never taken a breath that has deprived me or taken from me in any way. Every breath is a constant I depend on in an existence filled with change.

I reach the South end of the beach. I’m taking a few photos of the South bluffs and I notice a head bobbing in the water not far from me. At first I assume it is a seal but then I see two human bodies swimming vigorously very close to the rocks below these cliffs. Not just close to the rocks but rather through the rocks. This really is not too dangerous today with the lack of surf, but I’m much more comfortable where I am a few feet away from the shallow rocks.

I turn around and begin to head North. I am breathing into the grey horizon. I am feeling the cool of the water. I am feeling the sensations of the warmer and cooler patches shifting constantly as I make my way further North. The temperature constantly fluctuates. Some days less than others but today the warm and the cool are in constant flux. Sometimes you can literally feel the cool pass over your body from head to foot.

About 2 thirds of the way North I come across what I think is a very cool clump of bulbous seaweed. Just earlier this morning running through the harbor I saw a large kelp bulb floating on the surface. I was thinking that I had not seen one so large in a while. Now here are several right in front of me. I wonder if these are a particular species of seaweed or maybe something that form in a particular phase of the seaweed lifecycle. I have no idea and feel like I’d like to be more knowledgeable about this especially considering all the time I spend in and among seaweed.

Today I am definitely feeling up to swimming out to the Green Monster buoy. So I set my coarse due Northwest toward the tiny sphere I can see in the distance. I eventually reach it, swim around it and begin the return voyage home. When I get to the surf, there are several small but well formed waves that I try to get pictures of. Epic failure, but one I find to be worth keeping that captures hundreds of seaweed fragments scattered in the water.