Exhaustion feels all pervasive right now. When Larry mentioned how tired he was yesterday, I was so grateful. I had been feeling it too, but just thought it was depression seeping in again. No, it's just the weight of sadness at the loss of our little grandson last Friday. Clouds seem to want to move in and take over, but the sun continues to shine. I have to bathe in that sunshine, even though I want to curl up in a blankie on the couch and let the clouds cover me. I know I am more powerful than the clouds, and choose to feel the sun. It is very hard.
I haven't made much time for meditation during the past year. After filling the bird feeders and cleaning up big "Roger" poops with a shovel we keep in the screened-in porch, I took my camera to the "river". We live on the Sakonnet River. Roger is a German Shepard friend of ours who lives two houses over and who visits regularly. We give him treats and he goes back home. He's getting old now, and his hips don't let him climb our stairs as regularly as they used to, but he still keeps trying. He's a "lovey boy" and we are honored to clean up whatever "presents" he leaves us. He protects our property. He's like a member of our family. We love him.
The tide is the highest right now as I've ever seen it, and I just had to capture its power somehow. The sounds I've been hearing day and night draw me to the beach. This morning, I acted on that urge. I don't even want to analyze why I don't do this more often...please. I spend way too much time in my head. We have lots of large ledge rocks to sit on, and the sandbar has been moving up river more and more in recent years. We realized just last week that we actually have a sandy beach for the most part now. It used to be all rocks until you reach sand in the water at low tide. Now I saw sand as the waves receded in this high tide. It was so magical.
After taking several shots, I sat on a ledge seat. I pulled myself up tall, rounded my shoulders back and down, planted my feet firmly on the smooth, rounded beach rocks below them, and placed my hands palm-up and open on my thighs. I just tried to relax with my eyes closed and listen to the surf crash on the shore. I breathed deeply three times. Sonia Choquette taught me to breathe in and let out a sound on the out breath. She suggested doing this three times to draw my spirit in and wake it up. Then I just breathed normally. The roar of the approaching waves filled me up. Then came a crash, and a crackle, crackle, crackle as each wave receded off the smaller stones on their way back to sea, thus rounding them over time. I sat there for a few moments, but I felt figgity and opened my eyes again.
Those sounds are so soothing, but I just couldn't relax enough. I opened my eyes every few moments and just watched the process of grey-green water covering the shore ledge, and the motion of clean white foam receding back to sea. Back and forth; up and down. I closed my eyes again, and even though it is sixty degrees outside, the air left enough of a light chill on the surface of my skin that I wished I had just one more layer. I have a wool shawl on the rocker Chris and Jen gave us one Christmas in the living room, and I so wished I had that over me. I would have been so much more comfortable. I tried closing my eyes again, but now I was too focused on the chill, so I gave up and went in for my first cup of hot coffee.
I'll try this again, but next time, I'll bring the shawl.
I haven't made much time for meditation during the past year. After filling the bird feeders and cleaning up big "Roger" poops with a shovel we keep in the screened-in porch, I took my camera to the "river". We live on the Sakonnet River. Roger is a German Shepard friend of ours who lives two houses over and who visits regularly. We give him treats and he goes back home. He's getting old now, and his hips don't let him climb our stairs as regularly as they used to, but he still keeps trying. He's a "lovey boy" and we are honored to clean up whatever "presents" he leaves us. He protects our property. He's like a member of our family. We love him.
The tide is the highest right now as I've ever seen it, and I just had to capture its power somehow. The sounds I've been hearing day and night draw me to the beach. This morning, I acted on that urge. I don't even want to analyze why I don't do this more often...please. I spend way too much time in my head. We have lots of large ledge rocks to sit on, and the sandbar has been moving up river more and more in recent years. We realized just last week that we actually have a sandy beach for the most part now. It used to be all rocks until you reach sand in the water at low tide. Now I saw sand as the waves receded in this high tide. It was so magical.
After taking several shots, I sat on a ledge seat. I pulled myself up tall, rounded my shoulders back and down, planted my feet firmly on the smooth, rounded beach rocks below them, and placed my hands palm-up and open on my thighs. I just tried to relax with my eyes closed and listen to the surf crash on the shore. I breathed deeply three times. Sonia Choquette taught me to breathe in and let out a sound on the out breath. She suggested doing this three times to draw my spirit in and wake it up. Then I just breathed normally. The roar of the approaching waves filled me up. Then came a crash, and a crackle, crackle, crackle as each wave receded off the smaller stones on their way back to sea, thus rounding them over time. I sat there for a few moments, but I felt figgity and opened my eyes again.
Those sounds are so soothing, but I just couldn't relax enough. I opened my eyes every few moments and just watched the process of grey-green water covering the shore ledge, and the motion of clean white foam receding back to sea. Back and forth; up and down. I closed my eyes again, and even though it is sixty degrees outside, the air left enough of a light chill on the surface of my skin that I wished I had just one more layer. I have a wool shawl on the rocker Chris and Jen gave us one Christmas in the living room, and I so wished I had that over me. I would have been so much more comfortable. I tried closing my eyes again, but now I was too focused on the chill, so I gave up and went in for my first cup of hot coffee.
This is one of the loveliest pieces you have every written. It is totally honest, and tells your story, shares your moment. I'm sorry it was born of such sad loss. But I am thankful to have shared your time on the beach.
ReplyDeleteyou are eloquent in your pain and exhaustion.
ReplyDelete