At the seashore

I need the sea because it teaches me.
I don’t know if I learn music or awareness,
if it’s a single wave or its vast existence,
or only its harsh voice or its shining one,
a suggestion of fishes and ships
The fact is that until I fall asleep,
in some magnetic way I move in
the university of the waves.

-Pablo Neruda-

This I can say, we do need the sea.




As our fate unravels only to get tangled into tiresome knots, as all the petty facts of life clamber and claw over us, we need the sea to remind us of the truth. The waves do not knock down our fears or draw away our problems with the tide. We gain something greater, the reminder that we are but tiny phytoplankton with the life expectancy of just a few days.
That truth is incredibly liberating. With our perspective straightened, we are free to work on those knots and stand up under the weight of our nagging concerns.

Taking our lives in our own hands

Right now I am sitting on the porch with Colette, sharing a grapefruit. By sharing, I mean that I am eating the flesh and she is daintily drinking the juice from a spoon. It is a good moment. The essential chores are completed. I organized my work space. There is a sweet warm breeze moving the curtains and drying the laundry. The boys are still at school so it is quiet besides for the birds and babies cooing next door. I had anticipated sewing during the day today but have enjoyed just being home.

In fact, just being home is decidely my favorite way to be. So much so that I am now putting all my spare energy into the ambition being home on a regular basis. I have never had such a clear purpose in my life. Moving into my thirty-second year has made me realize that no one else is going to give me this, that I will have to take it into my own hands. Which is fine and the way it should be though I wonder why it never occurred to me before.

It is strange that you can feel lost in your own life but for too long, I have not recognized my surroundings. The sirens that wailed tsunami warnings served as my alarm clock and jarred me out of my confusion. I am awake now and grateful to be so. It was exhausting living a life that I did not own. Now that I am here, there is no disconnect, no daily bridge to build and cross. As much as I will continue to mourn the tragedies of the disasters that hit up north, I am also grateful for the opportunity to open my eyes upon my own life and now have the sense to live it. I am not sure who to direct this letter of gratitude to, so I will just leave it open, for everyone and everything. Thank you.