Picture yourself on a deserted beach. It’s a beautiful, sunny day.
The water is crystal clear blue, and a gentle breeze only nudges its surface, so that the waves roll lazily, like they’re just a little drunk. What’s that? The sound of the waves quietly lapping on your shiny black hooves? Or is it the friendly caw of a bird friend saying “Bonjour” from the sea. He alights gently on your noble, ample bottom. He gives you a lovely scratch with his tiny claws, to thank you for being his resting place. A little lower? There. You tilt your snout up toward the beaming rays as they fall on your glistening, soft skin. The white sand is warm beneath you. There are no children screaming “Maman” on the shore, coming up to bother you.
The whole coastline is yours. Maybe you’ll take an afternoon nap. Maybe you’ll simply take in the vastness of the ocean before you, contemplating the heartbreaking but exquisite fragility of your time on this sweet, giving planet. Later you will eat some delicious grass. Breathe in through your giant nostrils, breathe out with your mouth open and your long pink tongue hanging out. Give a long, low “Moo” straight from your soul. Ah, to be a gorgeous Corsican beach cow.
The above is a self-isolation meditation exercise. It is inspired by photos of beach cows, taking advantage of the empty shore this week on Corsica, a French island in the Mediterranean Sea. I suggest lying on the floor with your knees and arms tucked under you, like a beach cow, as a partner guides you through the meditation sequence. Maybe they can spritz you with a bottle to simulate sea spray. End the exercise in a communal moo.