Tag: ocean

aujord’hui

On By blshLeave a comment

With my feet in the sand I feel grounded, centered and here. The consciousness of the moment prompts me to ruminate on how many days pass us by on autopilot. How often do we cross paths with others experiencing this day, the same day that feels as mundane and simple as so many others, but it’s a day they will never forget? Whenever I’m in a moment where I am disconnected—somewhere in the past or in the future, both equal parts far away, both places that either I can not change or I have no control over, I look around me. Other people are anchors. All of these faces around me, living, being, and I have no idea how special or how inconsequential this current day is to them. Is it just Friday? Or is it the day on the beach they built a sand castle with Dad? Their first time on a jet ski? The first time they saw the ocean? The last? The day they spent from sun up to sun down on their jellyfish boogey board, reveling in saltwater and sweet summer air?

This moment could be a place that holds them eternally. My ordinary day is also a place that houses someone’s memory that is so special it will carry them through a future time that feels impossible.

Right now I can see a father holding his daughter. She is sound asleep amongst the sounds of the beach that are vibrant, cyclical and alive. The shrieks of joy in the lapping waves and the laughter amongst friends are merely background noise. All she knows is her father’s heartbeat, and that she is safe and loved in his arms. It is always these moments we miss. But I don’t want to. I want to to take the time to see them, even just a little clearer when I can. I want to witness your “one wild and precious life” (Mary Oliver). You deserve to be seen. We all do.

And suddenly my day, in the sea of all these faces of strangers whose stories I do not know and I will not know; I feel held too. I feel not so far from the things that I want, love, dream of and wish for. I feel not so far from all of the smaller memories who make me who I am.

I feel human and okay.

When I think about the ways this regular day to me is unforgettable to someone else—it feels good. It just does. And I don’t know what it means to be human, and we can philosophize on that until the end of time, but what I do know is how I feel when I look at anyone and wish for them to feel joy and hope, and that feels pretty close to what we’re supposed to strive for. I want you to be free, to shine, to smile. Let this day and all the days that you can, be worth it.

golden.

On By blsh4 Comments

The windows are dirty. It’s golden hour and the ethereal light is filtering into my bedroom through the spotted glass, undistorted. I should really get to cleaning them. I should really get to a lot of things. But in this moment, as the light flows in, all I can think about is how my chest feels cracked open, but it doesn’t feel bad. It doesn’t feel wrong. It doesn’t feel painful. It’s simply overwhelming. It’s as if whatever is pouring out of me must be purged, and the only thing making its way back in is Love.

Of course it hasn’t always felt like this. It’s been heavy moving through inner turmoil. It’s always heavy, like swimming through sludge, so thick and deep you can’t feel the bottom. The trauma wants to latch to you. It’s BEEN latched to you. You keep moving through it hoping to come out clean. You always come up with some of it still sticking to you, even if it’s minimal. It’s those types of wounds, the ones that creep up on us, that leave us shocked and spiraling. We don’t even know they’re there until a lover reaches for us. Even though their touch is gentle we recoil instead of coming closer, because it hurts. It’s that kind of heavy.

But all of this soul work has revealed to me a power so incredible, I cannot regret diving into the depths. I say revealed because I have never been without it. You have never been without it. It’s just that sometimes we refuse it. We refuse to use it because it makes us too responsible for our own state of mind. But this evasion of responsibility for ourselves, specifically our emotions, leaves us feeling powerless and imbalanced. Satisfaction, stability, acceptance, manifestation, peace and strength all lie in one place–your ability to choose. For me it echoes through everything I do. Everything I create. Everything I am.

A choice to begin again.
A choice to see it differently.
A choice to put inner peace above all.
A choice to change the narrative.
A choice to love anyway.
A choice to embrace sadness, to caress heartache, until they begin to resemble something like joy and hopefulness.

It is liberating. For example, I was so sure this entry was going to be sad. I just knew it! I thought to myself, I am going to write today, and boy is this one going to be a doozy. It is going to hurt because today I am in IT! It being the sadness. But here I am writing (physically writing in my journal because that’s where entries on this blog often start), and I am smiling. I am radiant. I am optimistic. I am full. How? I suppose after working so hard to consciously choose not to dwell, I’ve finally begun to subconsciously choose it. Make no mistake, I choose to feel my sadness. I feel it, honor it, divine with it, and I kiss it farewell. At least, until we meet again, in a different way for a different reason.

Emotions ebb and flow. Healing ebbs and flows. It all comes forth in us, begging to be felt. So I make my choice. The water of the wave recedes, then builds up. Silently, I sit and let it swell. I feel it without judgment. I inhale, exhale. Within the crest is all I carry and through the crash it is released. The waves come at different intensities and varying frequencies, but they always come. I choose to experience their arrival as a blessing, a baptism, an awakening.

Golden hour is fading. The sun is setting. It’s light is now merely a dimming ember on the horizon. Twilight will linger in the sky until the night comes and dresses her in stars. A tiara of constellations. It will be beautiful. The windows are still dirty, but my vision is clear, and all I can see is Love.

a sailor’s prayer.

On By blshLeave a comment

My intention was to love you. This is my intention with every person, with every connection I make. I love. What differs is the way that love manifests and blooms into existence. It’s different every time. Sometimes it changes with people over time, but it is always love, and it needs no explanation. “One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving.” When we meet someone we have an idea of where our intended love will go. We’ll make choices and decisions based upon steering our love in the direction we desire. We visualize an outcome. This isn’t abnormal or even necessarily a bad thing. Visualization is healthy and helpful. There are some ways that intention can be insidious, but that has everything to do with the person doing the work and where they are in their healing process. Is their intention truly to love unconditionally? Or is it an escape out of loneliness? Is it actually a need for validation? Is it a vain attempt to numb a wound rather than heal it?

With you, I released the need to steer the ship. I decided the waves knew better how to get me to land. To an island with a jungle that’s lush and dense, so green it feels like you never even knew the true meaning of the color. Until now. A never-ending paradise abundant with life and nourishment. Of course, all jungles have dark, dangerous places too. But with love guiding me, I do not fear getting twisted up in the vines. Once I relax, release, the fear releases me too. I slip from the danger into a place of gratitude. The darkest parts of ourselves have a greater need to be seen than the lightest. This is where the deepest healing is. See me, it begs. This tests love, and love withstands.

So, I let go of the wheel of my ship and let it spin. Carried softly by salt and foam to whatever place is meant for me this time, I trust the motion. And while I could look at the night sky and consult the stars for an idea of where I’m going, it is more fun not to know.

Love.

Love.

Love.

My intention is to love you. It can blossom in any way it wants to, and that way will feel right. I stand securely and happily, with an open heart and open eyes. Love is a compass leading me home, “a little lighter, a little brighter.”