Farewell, my friends,

Farewell and hail,

I’m off to seek the holy grail!

I cannot tell you why.

Remember, please,

When I am gone,

Twas aspiration

Led me on.

Twiddly Widdly

Tootle-le-oo,

I’d really love to stay with you

But here I go…

Goodbye!

— Unknown

For the first time in 2 1/2 years, I will not be writing my blog today.  Instead, as I head toward the shore, I leave you with this one — originally posted in March of 2011.  Wishing you all wonderful days as I go to the sea to be renewed.

Love and Light,

Pam

“maggie and millie and molly and may

went down to the beach (to play one day)

…may came home with a smooth round stone

as small as a world and as large as alone.

for whatever we lose (like a you or a me)

it’s always ourselves we find in the sea.”

— e. e. cummings

“As small as a world and as large as alone.”

Whenever I join the millions of grains of sand on the beach, I am taken to a place that can only be found by the sea.  Local Floridians will tell you that March is no time to walk barefoot in the surf; but my northern body was feeling Springish, and my sneakers were brand new.  Did I really want to be finding sand in my socks for the next year?  I left them behind with socks tucked inside and made the trip across the sunbathers’ sand to the edge of the water.  I began to think that the locals might be right as I stepped onto the still-wet sand above the water’s edge; but soon my feet were numb with cold and the water felt less icy as I let it lap gently around my ankles.

Except for a few joggers who passed quickly and then disappeared, my sister and I had the beach to ourselves.  The tide was receding and the castle-building, sun-worshiping swimmers were still asleep.  The only measure of time was the rhythmic song of saltwater over sand; and we walked silently, scanning the shell-line for treasures.  It always amazes me to see the endless supply of  seaweed and sponges and shells that appear as the tide flows out.

Farther and farther we walked, and soon two sisters were engaged in catching up — not only on the news, because we know the happenings of each other’s lives, but on the mutual feelings and joys and sorrows that are part of our shared past.  We bring them into the present as we make our way along the shore, and only the sea birds are there to hear our words.  This is not the first time that I have brought my sadness to the great ocean and found something of myself in the sea.  We walked and we talked as our hopes, our dreams, our disappointments, our griefs, and our sisterhood poured out in waves.  I thought, as I spoke, with the water rising and falling at my feet that perhaps the sea was washing some of our words away and carrying them out to the place that makes the world seem so very small.  I thought of the similarity between the whooshing of a mother’s womb and the whooshing of the waves flowing in and out.  I thought of the way that life mimics the motion of the sea — coming and going, ebbing and flowing, swelling and retreating, ever changing — and leaving behind a never-ending supply of the most surprising treasures.

Perhaps I find myself in the sea because it takes a little piece of me out with its tide to a place where the “me” becomes small as I join with the “all.”  I love that on this one quiet morning I was able to walk with my sister and we were able to share the magic of losing ourselves as we walked and then finding something fresh and new in the cleansing waves of the sea.