Page 105 of Sort of Seeing Someone

But aside from all that, I wanted to be back sleeping in Ocean Beach, as close to the water as possible. When your soul connects to a place in this wide, vast world, you want to find it there as much as possible. SoI booked myself an Airbnb that isn’t half bad. I already know it won’t be likeGerda’sslice of perfection, but a studio on the second floor of a t-shirt store sounded like a palatable place to put my bags down. Bonus, it’s just a five-minute walk to the full moon ritual thing thatYasmintalked me into attending—and I may or may not pass my favorite ice cream shop along the way.

I don’t know much about a moon beam bath, but I do know it needs to be dark before entering the water. The sun goes down quite early this time of year, so I throw on some makeshift swimwear (a sports bra and some boy shorts I planned to sleep in), put on my hoodie, and head out toward the water around 5:30pm.

As I make my way to the shoreline, I pass people who are sitting outside slurping ramen at hot-spot OB Noodle House. I see people practicing juggling and playing hacky sack. I see people shopping sidewalk sales in flowy dresses and crocheted tops. Nothing really has changed about the essence of this place in the months since I’ve been gone. But instead of finding that frustrating, I find it comforting. The pace of life here—albeit slow—feels doable, welcoming, and warm.

Perhaps I feel those things in their entirety because most social media notifications on my phone have been disabled. With my Instagram account deactivated for the time being and my online store shut down, the incessant dings and pings have come to a hard stop. What felt deafeningly lonely and hopeless in Chicago feels perfectly appropriate here. There is no underlying sense of doom as I walk toward the water. I know I haven’t experienced the clear-minded powers of the ritual just yet, but I’m starting to understand that if I want to do what I love on a level that doesn’t chip away at my soul, that looks like opening brick-and-mortar in the No-Bad-Days capital of the world—not like making a deal with the social media devil and falsifying the words inmy Instagram bio.

The Moon Beam Bath Ritual is in full swing by the time my toes touch the cool sand. As far as I know, this isn’t sanctioned by any one specific group or healer. I imagine some OB resident made a Facebook invite that spread like wildfire amongthelikemindedcommunity and that’s how a bunch of woo-woo people found themselves on the beach after dark tonight.

It’s so dark and crowded that there’s virtually no hope I’ll findYas, which is fine. I’m sure I’ll be seeing quite a bit of her over the next couple days while I sort out my life. Who I do keep an eye out for, however, is someone who looks like they’ve done this before—someone who appears to be heading confidently toward the cold, dark water—so that I can ask that someone if there’s any trick to mastering a moon beam bath before I hop into the chilly waters myself.

That’s when I spy a middle-aged lady disrobing. She has a bathing cap on. She’s fetching earplugs from her bag. This is definitely someone who’s floated around under the starry sky before.

“Excuse me,” I say, catching her before she puts the balls of puttyinto her ears. “Any tips for a first timer?”

The woman stands up from her crouching by her bag and turns to face me.

“I know that voice.”

“Mom?!”

“Moonie.”

She throws her arms around me as my jaw drops to the ground. It’s been years since I’ve seen her in the flesh, since I’ve been hugged by her with such force. As I gaze over her shoulder, I can’t believe I didn’t notice the giant tour bus emblazoned with “Metaphysical Spiritual Sisterhood –Sedona, AZ” on the side.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“The same thing you are. Taking a bath under the magic of the moon in the great Pacific Ocean. We do this field trip annually. Oh, how I miss being near a body of water! We don’t have this in Arizona, you know.”

“June, are you coming?” one of my mom’s “sisters” asks her.

“In a minute. I’m catching up with daughter.”

“I should have figured that’s your daughter. You two are twins!” the lady says.

Twins? My mom looks thinner than I’ve ever seen, albeit undeniably happy and beaming. I, on the other hand, look like I have been plagued by a deep sense of stress and sadness that I’m just now beginning to push through.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“How was I supposed to know you’d be here, silly?” she asks in a playful tone.

“I mean, just in general. Ever,” I bring back the seriousness.

“I’m, I…” she stutters. How could she have never thought we’d have to have this conversation at some point? I decide to help her.

“Look, Mom. I know you’re…special.”

“And I knowyouare, too” she says back.

Suddenly, it’s as if the two of us have been seen and heard for the for the first time, in a long time. Do I have questions? Yes. Many. And I intend on getting answers to each of them in time. But for now, it’s like a tollgate has lifted and it’s my turn to drive through and keep the journey going.

“So what’s this all about?” I ask, gesturing to the water, which is currently filled with buoyant moon worshipers of all shapes and sizes.

“Moonie, I’m going to tell you something. If you can get outside and bathe in the moonlight, you are one of the lucky ones. There are few better ways to connect yourself with nature and take in the energy of the full moon than bathing outside like this. It’s incredibly healing. Incredibly clarifying.”

“And incredibly cold.”

“You’ll get used to it. Come on. Let’s get into the water already!” she shouts, as if the ocean is running out of room for us.

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