It’s good to be home, back at level with where the tides take place. Yesterday at the beach the wind swept over the loose parts gathering bits of sand and needling them into my face. The waves bounced a scent of salt into a mist that became my breath.
I stood for a long while surrounded by rocks made slick with kelp and small pools of salt water where precocious creatures play at the game of life.
Sometimes this community of life is buoyed by the hug of water. Sometimes it is open to the onslaught of hard sun. Sometimes it’s battered by the crush of heavy waves, and sometimes it’s left to rest exposed to quiet skies.
I admire the hearty nature of life that dwells in interdependence with the tides.
In my admiration I find gratitude for the variation of rhythms in my life. Thanks to the way that my work lifts me up and rinses me with the energy shared by an ocean full of efforts. Thanks to the moments when the active waters recede and I lay down on the rocks to gather insight from stillness. Thanks to the fierce variety that sustains me and gives me balance.