Where Sand Meets Sea

Stillness in Motion…

Over the coming weeks I’ll be sharing a series of blogs I’ve been writing about me as a person and my own development, outside of my usual ramblings about my writing journey. In the Stillness in Motion series I’ll be looking as deep into myself as I dare to go, looking for greater awareness, deeper mindfulness and more meaning connections with myself and the world around me.

First up, Where Sand Meets Sea

IMG_0249_beach

Yesterday, I stood knee-deep in late April waves as they busily shooshed to and from the shoreline. The sun was sinking, the air quick to lose its heat.

My mind struggled for presence, despite the obvious beauty around me. I was caught between the rules I’d created for myself and my inability to adhere to them fully. We need to leave soon so I have enough time to drive home, cook dinner, prepare myself for the week ahead.

I wasn’t helping myself.

As the day grew late and my time at the beach was drawing to an end, I looked back over my shoulder and saw my son and my wife reading a book together on the beach towels. The thinnest of thoughts drifted light behind my eyes. This is it, right here, right now.

I closed my eyes briefly to reset my vision, took a deep inhale.
I rolled my shoulders back, my feet pressing into the soft, shifting sands. I extended my crown skywards.

The sound of the waves as they broke around me, the breath of the ocean.
The deeper, more constant rumble from further out as the great mass moved with an awesome, imperceptible power.
The breeze, soft and fresh as it passes me from the left to the right.
The weak warmth of the sun, the last vestiges clinging to the day.

A beat, maybe two, and then moment was fading from me as I turned my back on the Pacific ocean and walked up the beach to my family.
In that instant I felt the latent power around me.
The energy, a great overwhelming positivity.
It’s there.
All the time.
Not just while I’m at the beach.

Those beats need to become a bar.
That bar, a verse.

A composition, a soundtrack, constant like the surging undercurrent forces driving the great ocean lapping on and off the shore around me.

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