By Kel Barlow

I didn’t go to the beach expecting chaos.

I imagined calm waves and quiet moments—an escape from the nonstop pace of city life to reconnect with nature while camping for the lunar eclipse with my partner and two dogs.

But life had other plans, in the form of 30mph winds, dense fog, and an unexpectedly packed beach.

The Root: Go Inward

Turns out, despite three months of planning, we’d inadvertently failed to account for the lunar eclipse coinciding with spring break for everyone but our hometown. As the beach turned into a whirlwind of sand, noise, and confusion, I made a choice: either let it ruin the trip or figure out how to make it work.

Somewhere between the wind and the madness, I found a rhythm—a handful of small systems and mental shifts that helped me focus on what I could control, and even enjoy the unpredictability.

Looking back, the signs were there: the unusually long ferry line, the chaotic corner store packed with shirtless students covered in Sharpie scribbles, the convoy of lifted trucks crowding the road to the beach. But it wasn’t until we pulled up to what looked more like a custom car rally than a beach campsite—complete with beach police and Troopers pulling over racing vehicles, kicking up sand left and right—that it really sank in.

The news confirmed it: we were camping in the middle of a spring break beach party.

My heart sank. I briefly considered turning around, but the four-hour drive home felt more daunting than the havoc ahead. So we leaned in, laughed at the absurdity, and started setting up camp as the wind roared louder and the sun dipped below the horizon.

The tent went up—barely—and we celebrated too soon, only to notice the wind was already ripping the tent at the seams.

Exhausted, but determined, I shifted into problem-solving mode.

Using my Tetris skills (and maybe a little desperation), I reconfigured our setup, compacted our gear, and transformed the Jeep into a surprisingly cozy sleeping space.

 

Just as we finished making the bed, the moon began to darken and blush with the eclipse. Despite everything, we got our moment: curled up in the back of the Jeep with the dogs, watching the eclipse in quiet awe.

It wasn’t the trip we planned, but it became a reminder that with a little flexibility and a few creative systems, you can find peace—even when everything’s on fire and you’re the dog sipping coffee calmly like in the “This is fine” meme.

The River: Go Outward

My mantra, “Embrace the chaos to choose tranquility,” may have taken root on that windswept beach, but its impact hit even harder once I was back in my day-to-day life.

The beach taught me something I hadn’t been able to grasp before: that letting go of perfection and leaning into flexibility can be the very thing that clears a path through mental blocks.

Instead of waiting for everything to calm down or align perfectly, I learned to move with the disruption—to adapt, shift, and still create something meaningful.

The waves didn’t stop, the wind never let up, and the crowds kept coming—but I found a way to stand steady in the middle of it all.

Nature has a way of providing the grounding we need, to work with the life we lead.

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