As I sit here I am watching a man walk down to the water. He just wants to feel it, to be with it for a moment this morning as he comes to life. This big body of water, the sound it makes gently lapping the shore. His feet are in the water now. His head down. The sound of the waves a trance.
That familiar call. An invitation to meditate. To swim, to play. To just be. That wave after wave rolls along gently. A reassurance of time and tide.
I sometimes wonder about it's draw. The sea in all it's majestic mystery. Enchantment. Why do we carry vials of sand back to our houses? Place shells gently on the window ledge. What is calling us? For I see it everywhere this desire to be at the sea. We are all listening to the call.
Is listening to the sea like being rocked as a baby. It feels that way to me. Comforting, loving. I feel protected in its' embrace even knowing it's unruly power.
For it is a wild thing, the sea. Its ager rises unbidden. Its' temperament changes upon a dime. It cannot be counted on. Yet still I am drawn. Every few days it calls me back to listen to its' story. And I wonder. I wonder why.
And it is okay to wonder. Not to know why. It is ok to just answer a call because, just because. For so much is unknown. And to live is to accept this. To accept that you may not know when, or how or why. But you trust.
You just trust the sea in all its magnificence to bring you back to yourself. Closer somehow. And some how it does. And you take that and you are thankful for it. Felling deeper somehow because your well has been filled and you've a shell in your pocket and sand on your feet.
- Deanne Fitzpatrick