workdays this week started with sweat and vitamin sea. my little AM jaunts to the beach took me further from the sounds of the morning commute and into the white noise of gentle waves and birds’ wings and sand whispering under my feet.
i needed to swim in the ocean today. i needed to saturate my bones with the searing saltiness of this southern sea. on the edge of the country, i stood, as the waves tickled and buried my feet in the sand. for a moment, i gave into the sinking and the sticking before i wriggled my toes from the heaviness.
the water was unusually warm. i dragged my legs through the shallows, wade by wade by wade and dove into the surf, as the smallest of swells churned the water so constant, so refreshing so fucking crystal clear. under two feet of ocean, i spun to face the sky and opened my eyes to look up through that searing saltiness at the scorching, summer sun – a bright, white light that shifted upon the glassiness as the ocean moved in its own deep breaths on my behalf.
my eyes were burning long before the salt and the sun in the sea today. but, today’s pain brought relief from the home it has so recently been threatening.
it floated and it rested.
and i kept telling myself to give in, to feel how it feels, to let it cleanse me. let it renew me. let it be the therapy i was in so very desperate need of. with no words and no poetry and no writing and no talking and no thinking. let it be no feeling. let it be no afternoon nightmare. just let it be.
it seems i always forget
how much i need the sea.
bring me home, be my guide, walk with me into the rest of my life.
i walked along the beach this morning.
[i thought about you.]
i didn’t find a space, in all that sand, that someone hadn’t walked before me.
so i stopped stepping in footprints and tried to weave through, creating something of a path of my own.
and maybe one day i’ll leave footprints in the sand of your heart – and one day after that, they might carve the only trail. where the tides of time, or perhaps me, will wash clean the paths of all those loves who walked before.
i wriggle my toes into the sand. into the earth. into this island.
i stare at the ocean. the waves. their energy, continuity, fluidity. this magical place, bringing me home. talking me into living. speaking to my heart.
i hear all its wonderful sounds – the curl of the waves into wet sand, the silence that follows. the flittering leaves of the palm trees nearby, the wind against my ear as i turn my head so slightly.
i scratch at day-old mosquito bites.
i watch a surfer emerge safely onto shore, make the sign of the cross and look to the sky.
i take a photo for a couple, two beautiful men from england. they thank me for what appears to be the most generous offer they’ve ever received. no worries, i say, surprised at their graciousness.
i watch it all float by.
i love hawaii so much, i never want to let it go.
so, for now, i won’t.
getting a little cheeky at maslin beach, south australia.
magical. maui, 2010.
i sit and i watch the hourglass empty itself, into itself.
and all the granules of iridescent sand that get left behind. what do they mean, in the scheme of time. that invisible, irreversible, inconceivable idea that we feel and can do
something nothing about.
yes, my fingers reached for something. but i knew better. spelling out nothing, with something. blame my heart, go on.
so i turn the hourglass on its side. and for just a fraction of it, i seem to have stopped time.
i take a moment. sit and breathe. let my eyes blur over. day dream. stare at nothing. think of everything. and when i don’t find you there, i tip it right side up again and watch it empty itself.
a perfect stream of sand, of time running free.