Morning Walk

A morning walk with my youngest daughter to see the sunrise over the sea. 

The sun only just managed to claw the tiniest of spaces through the clouds as it rose, but the sea is always magic. 

 

Ocean Treasures

There is a peculiar peace in studying the detritus washed up by the sea. 

If the beach is unmarked by any other footsteps but your own, or you walk in the part of sand washed clean of evidence of other feet by the tides efficient sweep, the pieces of sea-smoothed sand, cuttlefish, shells, small pieces of seaweed, look as if they have been laid on a perfect canvas for your private perusal and wonder. 

In general, meditation is not something I excel at. Stray thoughts constantly intrude and the long list of things I need to do jabs at me. 

However, walking the shore it is easy to fall into a type of flow time, where the only thoughts are an awareness of the lull of the surf, the rush and flow of the tide and the way the ever-changing light falls on water, stone, patterns and pieces of the sand and the seaweed. 

Shorelines

 

The places where sea meet land, where fluid laps solid and waves rush, murmur, ripple and roar, the liminal between places, so different from the rest of the sea, so different from the rest of the land, - Shorelines

 The places where magic happens. The place where the edge of the broken wave touches land, forming the changing boundary of the sea, only to be pulled back and replaced by another. 

Shorelines - 

The place where magic happens.

Especially in those moments where day meets night. 

When day meets night, where sea meets land - the in-between place in an in-between time  -  these seem to be the places and times when it is easier to step out of ourselves and just be. 

To step into a flow time where all there is

is the fall of the wave, a slant of light, an ebb, a flow. 

It's easy to wander, meander - but always follow the ever-changing dividing land between sea and land until swallowed by daytime or darkness. 

A place of secrets. Of give and take. 

Where treasures of shell, stone and seaweed are cast up, and dragged away. Where we walk upon the ground remains of countless shells that housed countless little lives, of rocks that endued over millennia. 

Where we walk over time.