the ocean has been really dark lately, in a strange way where it doesn't seem to have any relationship to the cerulean sky above it. there are lots of whitecaps but few waves; the wind throws the cypresses around and spoils otherwise incredibly warmbeautiful days. all in all it makes me edgy, and there's an odd little knot of uncomfortable energy just below my solar plexus that i feel certain will go away as soon as the sea turns back to the color it's supposed to be.
but we went to the beach yesterday to rockstack for a while, on the wrong side of one of our favorite beaches because there was a (very smelly) dead seagull on the better side. for a bit over an hour we barely spoke, just concentrating on our little balancing acts. the silence was interrupted once when i dropped a (very large) rock on my foot, but aside from that all we had was the sound of the waves and the gulls. towards the end, the light began to fade and we sat back on the sand to survey our creations. most of mine were smallish, two or three rocks, where he had some bigger and more complicated ones. i was proud of mine, though. i'd been in a very specific stacking mood, and nearly all of them involved some very unlikely-looking arrangements of largish rocks balanced on small points. afterwards, i felt - as i always do - more centered and balanced myself. we watched an otter playing in the cove, spinning and splashing the water with his tail, and i felt somehow that he would approve. the sun slid its way down and eventually shone right in our eyes, which we took as the cue to go get some coffee.
then last night i danced and danced in my bare, bruised feet on the concrete floor, letting music seep through me, trying to let guilt and fear and worry slide out of my fingertips and down through my toes and away. i slept hard last night, bright swirling dreams, and woke slowly this morning.
tomorrow, my mom is going to the hospital for a brochoscopy to (hopefully) figure out what's wrong with her lungs (and some other things). maybe the water will clear a bit when that's done.
but we went to the beach yesterday to rockstack for a while, on the wrong side of one of our favorite beaches because there was a (very smelly) dead seagull on the better side. for a bit over an hour we barely spoke, just concentrating on our little balancing acts. the silence was interrupted once when i dropped a (very large) rock on my foot, but aside from that all we had was the sound of the waves and the gulls. towards the end, the light began to fade and we sat back on the sand to survey our creations. most of mine were smallish, two or three rocks, where he had some bigger and more complicated ones. i was proud of mine, though. i'd been in a very specific stacking mood, and nearly all of them involved some very unlikely-looking arrangements of largish rocks balanced on small points. afterwards, i felt - as i always do - more centered and balanced myself. we watched an otter playing in the cove, spinning and splashing the water with his tail, and i felt somehow that he would approve. the sun slid its way down and eventually shone right in our eyes, which we took as the cue to go get some coffee.
then last night i danced and danced in my bare, bruised feet on the concrete floor, letting music seep through me, trying to let guilt and fear and worry slide out of my fingertips and down through my toes and away. i slept hard last night, bright swirling dreams, and woke slowly this morning.
tomorrow, my mom is going to the hospital for a brochoscopy to (hopefully) figure out what's wrong with her lungs (and some other things). maybe the water will clear a bit when that's done.
