Sunday Harvest. September 25, 2022.
I went to the water this morning and, even as I know the water is a place of respite, and replenishment, it is often that I am gone from it for too long. But, I always find my way back.
I came to the water to move, and release. For me, these are one and the same. Feet bare, able to connect to the ground. This is another way in which I breathe. And breath, I believe to be one of the many ways in which we create space, expand, and reach beyond our capacities. So this morning, I reached, and I breathed, and released, and also, I sank...
Consider this a thought train. The station at which the train leaves is sometimes unknown and even as I am the vessel of thought, I don't always enter the train at the point of its origin, but at some place along its route.
I went to the water this morning and danced in the waves. As they came to meet me, or me to meet them, in the midst of their ebb and flow, there was a moment when I began sinking, the sand sifting out and away from beneath my feet.
This moment is just after the wave comes to meet the shore, and just before they begin their retreat, and return home.
The sinking in the sand feeling and reality is something I am, in this moment, assigning myself to transcribe. The sensation is both scary, and freeing, all at the same damn time. In the moment, I think about breaking the movement so I can be ready to catch, and brace myself in the event that the wave keeps coming, and I keep sinking. But in this moment, I decided to stay in flow. To trust my ability to both sink and keep balance. And if I fall? I’ll be wet, somewhat disheveled, and maybe a little embarrassed.
And this here is life. Right now. In a nutshell.
I am both at home and yet, and still, I find myself in unfamiliar territory. And I realize the ease and alignment I so consistently yearn for , and seek, requires that I stand firm, and remain nimble.
Sinking, and still standing. — ẹniafẹ isis