the healing vibes of the great outdoors

i remembered what he said when he told me how the earth breathes. he told it to me in waterfalls, that man with missing teeth and black hair tucked behind his ears. he showed it to me, the heartbeat, the rise and fall of her lungs, the way she moved as earthly sounds spread, echoing across her skin. and it moved. it did. the earth, she breathes.

and i remembered this as i walked along a stretch of coastline that brought me back to myself. as i stopped and watched the clouds, the sea, moving and breathing with me as we tracked along steep cliffs that plummeted into the wild aquamarine. crashing waves and blackened rocks. rolling hills and rocky trails. trees and flowers and shrubbery. just three friends and me. we trekked lightly as she held us up and pushed us forward in soft wind and light shadows from rolling clouds above, all warmth and cool, just right and just enough.

i don’t know why i stayed away so long, when i know, i always know, one breath of clean, crisp air, one step into the wilderness, one more step away from all sounds of civilisation… and i’m free.

nothing less than everything

i want to hear a sand dune sing. i want to skid and roll down its endless hills, headfirst into this wonderful real life dream i walk my wonderful capable body within. i dive and sink when i swim in the greatest biggest seas, but it’s there i touch the earth
where it gets deep.
where i feel closer to its heart, its home. where i hear coral, currents and fish sing in bubbling marine melodies.
they remind me and i grow.
and i want to see stars explode, and scatter me with the true unknown. i want to fly through clouds, dense and white and cotton ball like.
i want to press my ear against a tree and hear life beating through its branches and leaves and wrap my arms around its width and know that it
makes
me
breathe.
and i will breathe until my lungs become the roots that spread the life and love into my blood. its life extends to me extends to everything that holds me up.
i want to hear chiming smiles as the sun declares its sleeping thoughts and carries us with a moonlit lullaby into restfulness and calm.
i want my day to know the poetry of all this world can teach. in faithfulness and surprise, i’ll trust, i’ll find why,
and how it unravels and unwraps and leaves me bleeding seawater breath stained with sand dunes, clouds, stars and leaves, the sun and the moon and everything between.

over the past little while

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i left carly and sun river with a pinch of sadness, a little reluctance, sure, but i knew it was the right time to move. i thumbed it and road tripped with logan. the boy with the guitar. he’s all pisces, through and through. like me. he made the ride a joy – jiving and joking, bouncing and buzzing off a way-too-big caramel macchiato. he reminded me of three people at once – but for the life of me i couldn’t tell you who.

i met morgan, here, in hood river, like it was no big deal. like we weren’t reuniting completely out of context. in her hometown. in a place where she keeps all her memories and stories, through forests, in waterfalls along ridge lines, through orchards and wineries.

today we hiked to tamanawas falls. i was [illogically] scared of bears. mountain lions. wolves. i was walking while adrenaline was pumping, hard through my veins, all the way to the end. to the waterfall, which fell wide and slim. cold water. a glacier runoff. don’t drink it. she laughed.

we scrambled across a rock face, loose and sturdy – who knew which was which – and found ourselves behind the falls. behind! do you believe it?! it was like magic. the water streaming down in front of us – looking back into the valley. into! do you believe it?! it was like magic. between the excitement and the adrenaline, i couldn’t think straight. we sat, for a minute. took photos. stared in relative silence [the sound of the falls overtaking all others] and marvelled. oh well done mother nature. well done. you served us well today. well done.

we climbed down moss rocks and mud to the base of the falls. to where the spray saturated us. to where we looked up and whirled with vertigo. [to where the water looked like it could brutalise, bury and rescue you, all at the same time.] i lost my feet and slipped, on my bum, down gravel rocks and wet. adrenaline now doing nothing more than making me yelp and warn morgan, below me, of our possible demise into the base of the waterfall.

alas! death did not come. not by falls, not by bear, not by sliding into a ravine [perhaps a place we shouldn’t have been.]

but thank you mother nature, for your kindness in keeping us safe. for your provision of a waterfall so goddamn, unimaginably, breathtakingly beautiful. for the hundreds or thousands of who-knows-what-happened years that formed this place in the very first place. oh man, this world. this land. this life. oh me oh my, this land this life.