The problem is that down here you’re landlocked, and the ocean is a day’s drive or more away. All your thoughts, good and bad, are allowed to stew and simmer in the boiling heat.
Even if your bad or sad thoughts (or wishes, or dreams, or fuck you I hate you’s) are carried off in the warm, dusty wind, they will eventually come back, riding on crow feathers and dandelion seeds. The ill feelings will rest on your shoulder once again and remind you just what you were mad about so long ago when your heart ached and you said cruel things. That is the fate of the people who live in this valley.
If you’re near enough to the ocean, any ill feelings that fester in your chest will be carried off in the jet stream. The air is so clean and clear that even if you loved someone and lost someone, the memory of your bellies touching will be whisked away before it can make you fall to your knees. The water will make you feel mellow and sweet, and when the whales call out to each other, you will be reminded that everything is temporary.