today:
the secret hot springs of stinson beach at the wrong tide make them the secret sulfurous cold seawater springs of stinson beach. everything we read told us just to ‘look for the unclothed locals.’ we found none. the barnacles sliced through the palms of our hands as we scrambled over the rocks in search of the baths. then: we frapped wildly around in water so icy our legs were numb in 5 seconds. did beach yoga to soak in all the vitamin d we could before the first work week of 2012. discussed topics of racism, slavery, injustice and generational differences in emotional intelligence, i.e., how we can fix the world that’s left for us. then: stripping nakers and transforming into the unclothed locals we’d only read about until then, running in the surf for way too long with our hands over our heads, screaming at the pins and needles of the cold on our skin. also: nutsnacks. seapoops. succulents. ocean treasures. and catmail.
writing the book on how to do 2012 right.
