I stopped to hear the ocean’s soft swish of the tides in and out. Rolling down my car window I surveyed the empty beach. Landed on the beach were vast logs and tree stumps washed up to shore. Astonished at my good fortune I exited quickly and gathered up one as a table to hold a trio of plants gifted to me by a departing student. Still doubts crept in as to the unfolding of this project. Two hours later, a new addition of painted sea stones spilled over with the generosity of this gift. Still another quest for a second home for a beta fish brought me back to the same beach. A helper appeared at my side on my return and the adventure continued. Nature’s bounty brought me to this place and sent me home with treasures scarce imagined.
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Releasing concerns of the day I take note of a burgeoning oak. Unapologetic and immense he remains fixed in his place. I find comfort in his faithfulness remembering, "This too shall pass." Trusting in an ever expanding universe I see evidence in my small sphere. Flowers abound and I never grow tired of engaging them with my curiosity. Mindful steps with an open heart combine to soulful meditations on how far I have traversed the tides of my life.
Tiny grains of sand dotted the ocean floor. The moon hung in the sky, almost winking at me in my smallness. Inspired by its charm, I allowed the cool water to envelop me rendering me almost invisible. Dusty rose brushed the tides rolling past me. I felt a kinship to a lone gull bobbing nearby. Faith as tiny as a mustard seed filled the vastness of my place. The mantle of a blue twilight sky enfolded me. Reaching down to the sea bed, I allowed the wet sand to linger in my fingers. Cottages silhouetted in the dim light dotted the coastline. The whir of a boat’s engine broke the silence. The warmth of the sea bath offset the chill in the autumn air. In deference to a promise, I breathed in hope. Rising now, I made my way to shore. With a nod to the moon and a toss of the head, I bundled up and followed the light of a distant window.
Grief old yet fresh brought me to tears. A kind hand opened the door to an unknown space. As if a single rose were chosen by God to stand in a vase on His altar, I sat. Expectant, darkness, save two dancing lights standing in unison at a golden vessel I was drawn in ever more. Breathing in sorrow I breathed out peace. It felt as it did on the first sea bath of summer. Long days were ahead of radiant sunshine and hot rains. Drenched I would dunk and then again. A single sailing boat skirting the horizon far off, would stoke an ember of hope in my heart. Worldly yet utterly unapologetic, I felt his gaze. Looking on me with fondness he allowed me breadth and reached the depths. Immeasurably intrigued, I returned his affection and knew I would come back to this place. The sun setting now, the reds and golds and burnt sienna pledged their allegiance to him. Moving slowly back into the world, I knew I had reason to believe.
Around my sister tree is a shroud - grey as if the mists gravitated towards her swaying form. Even the clouds hover and appear to be drawn to her. Not knowing why I feel the same, I search above for meaning. The brightness higher up promises sun just behind the shades of grey. In my friend’s winnowing branches a single bird perches only to flit out and off as I watch its flight. Not feeling put off I am quieted inside. Perhaps this is my attraction to her. Her simple way of holding steady. Her steadfast way of remaining available to small creatures. Her unapologetic way of expressing her truth. Her generosity in breadth and depth. Her silent presence. Yes, perhaps for all of these reason I am reminded why she is only an offshoot of where I have come from. From the primordial ocean, our common ancestor, our mother, we all have branched off. Unassuming, she stands firm. And I am gladdened.
Peering over the old stone wall I sought a simple marker named, “Dear Ellen”. Crowned with a laurel wreath and described as the “Wife of Joseph Stanton 1782”, she was 23 years old. I noticed the stately stones among the grass and trees, bird calls and peepers and wondered at their testament. To the many who had “run the race” and “kept the faith” was a collective wisdom, if not for the simple marker. What stories would they tell? How did they manage the intricacies of their life? I marveled at a completion of life. Sensing a whisper on the wind, I heard, “Tell the story.” The dead would lose nothing by speaking their truth. I turned my mind in earnest to my husband’s words just a few weeks earlier. Awe marked the memories one by one emanating from rooms long forgotten as I threw back the ghostly shrouds, unafraid and unapologetic. I set my attention to my task, revived and drinking of the water of life. Encouraged I sought refuge in my work as I pulled back the curtains to the dust rising from the streets below.
I saw the sweep of the mist trailing from behind hazy clouds. They spoke to me of creation. Encouraged by their speech, I heard the rolling waves murmuring as if sealing my fate. Sitting on the weather-worn bench with my back against the stone wall, I allowed the scene to enter and fill the in-between spaces in my mind. The sun setting from behind a cottage strutting out on the point lingered as I did in this moment in time. Recalling the fluted petals of the multi-colored tulips on my walk down the trolley-tracks, I saw more gifts continue to rise out of the ripe earth. Soon a season of chatter and walks and inspirational gatherings would come. For now, I sat alone in my perch sinking into the comfort I felt in my solitude. Gulls swept in, poised for their hunt out on the open ocean. Breathing in the salty air, I could feel the pleasure of a heart given to the ocean’s call. Steadily my feet moved on to the empty beach. Reaching down, I let a handful of the pink sand sift through my fingers. Mindful of my bliss, I allowed myself to move on to my next destination. Unknown as the future was, I knew it must be so. Pebbles and shells crunching now, I took alternating steps forward.
The scope of the beach shell-strewn and rich with birds and sea life overflowed into my expectant nook on an old weather-worn bench. This symbiotic relationship was perhaps akin to a time before I knew this place. Swallows and gulls raced and chased as if in character for their audience. The weariness of the day left me here. A couple stopped to talk to a family sitting among the rocks beside the water. The twills and pleasing bird calls invited me in, despite my limited understanding. The trees newly coiffed for the emerging season, appeared somewhat self-conscious for my attention. Yellow tulips invited me to reach down and feel their smooth skin on my lips. An old man with a cane saluted my approaching figure. An exchange of pleasantries added joy to my step. Breathing in the salty air, I could feel its healing properties. While looking out at the tides, I felt their spirit reach in as if to access my inner sensibilities. I felt the water’s power. Night’s last, I watched it shining under the blood red moon. Awe as if in witness to an exotic place, I understood I was one among these many wonders. Sea and sky met here and their bliss held the key to my soul.
Trees silhouetted black and stark against the lapis and red-orange of the fading sky melded into a single panorama. The winowy branches seemed to will this union as if clinging to winter’s end. I hung on every lumbering turn and took delight in their display. Still, I sensed the sheer glee of emerging leaves, stems throwing out their arms in a joyful pose. Clouds granted benediction to the sea. In a gust of grace, the water swept smoothly seaward. Nodding to the wind, I pulled my jacket close. Soon, the rays of the summer sun would brush away such abstractions. In their place the promise of tiny yellow buttercups dotted the landscape. For today, earth’s treasures emerged like faltering steps taken by a toddling babe. Gripped by their song, red-breasted robins sped across rain-drenched lawns. A tiny red cardinal flew before me, a daily source of thoughtful recreation. Invested now in this transformation, months of introspection melted away. Freedom, limitless like a road leading to an unknown destination, my spirits lifted to the heights of my youth. Breathing in intensely, I tapped my steps and turned outward.
The trees ripe with tiny red bulbs at the tips of long waving branches are silhouetted against a stormy grey sky. The churning sea throws waves in a mad dash against the rocks. The wind draws my attention to its power and I can almost sense a standing figure on a ship tossed in the ocean calming its force. A great heron rises up out of the water clasping its prey. I watch it as it circles around the marshes out of sight. The well-worn path of the old trolley trail cushions my rambling tracks. Around each bend, bird song and the drifting spring release of ocean scents meet me. With every step, I detect life brimming up through the dank earth. A bunch of daffodils nod and bend in the air randomly placed in a grove of unruly brush and trees. Their bonnets dainty and bright mask sideward glances. Generous now, the clouds deliver their cargo in waiting. A joyful traveler on my way, welcomes this display. Breathless now, I follow the bend in the road past the shell-shorn beach home.
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