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I am up at 5:17 this morning. The sun rose five minutes before. Instead of seeing the Atlantic spread before me, just out the window, or having a glint of sun greet me at the horizon I wake to the darkness of four enclosed walls. The sound of the thunder couples with the fog horn and the buzz of the refrigerator. We are back and on this new day I am quite aware of the change of exposure, light and air.
We opened up the season in Thalassa this past week. There are no words to express what this experience was or will continue to release. It was a week of shifting energies as we resided (literally) on moving ground. It started out in a fog bank, buzzing, unsettled and frenzied. It took until last Wednesday to finally "arrive" and sense the stored tensions dissipating. The buzz of bees trickled away and the winds moved in taking much with it out, away, across the landscape.
Smooth fields of azure, golden, seamless beige, powder blue, silver green, all dance and illuminate my memory. Emblazoned with cape light, kerosene light, star light, flashlight, ocean light.
We read to each other, we tapped a vein in the earth and water miraculously rose day after day. We tasted, drank, sat, stared at land, sky, and sea. We walked down, up and over- and back. Wings and fins. We filled the shack with incense, reflections, and projections forward.
During the course of the week we lived. Beach roses bloomed. Whales spouted. The outside world moved forward too, doing just fine without us.
The light and temperature were ever shifting. Ours was a private changeable world full of passing into recognition and intentionality. Life around us slipped into the next. We moved with it all.
Yesterday the truck moved like a snail through the dunes taking us further from our nest. We had dwelled there as all those who have come before us have- and all those that will come after will too.
On route 6 we were quickly passed by cars just in from Boston, here to unwind for the long weekend. We have unwound at a different speed, at a pace out-of-sync with this one. In the process of this past week we entered an altered state. Our return has been populated, full of chatter, slick machines, cool, hard surfaces, and clean, bright interiors.
As two years ago, drops of hot water and sensations of clean clothes are filled with gratitude and mystery. It is bittersweet, as with these gifts comes distance from the simplification and clarity of what being so alive affords.
We opened up the season in Thalassa this past week. There are no words to express what this experience was or will continue to release. It was a week of shifting energies as we resided (literally) on moving ground. It started out in a fog bank, buzzing, unsettled and frenzied. It took until last Wednesday to finally "arrive" and sense the stored tensions dissipating. The buzz of bees trickled away and the winds moved in taking much with it out, away, across the landscape.
Smooth fields of azure, golden, seamless beige, powder blue, silver green, all dance and illuminate my memory. Emblazoned with cape light, kerosene light, star light, flashlight, ocean light.
We read to each other, we tapped a vein in the earth and water miraculously rose day after day. We tasted, drank, sat, stared at land, sky, and sea. We walked down, up and over- and back. Wings and fins. We filled the shack with incense, reflections, and projections forward.
During the course of the week we lived. Beach roses bloomed. Whales spouted. The outside world moved forward too, doing just fine without us.
The light and temperature were ever shifting. Ours was a private changeable world full of passing into recognition and intentionality. Life around us slipped into the next. We moved with it all.
Yesterday the truck moved like a snail through the dunes taking us further from our nest. We had dwelled there as all those who have come before us have- and all those that will come after will too.
On route 6 we were quickly passed by cars just in from Boston, here to unwind for the long weekend. We have unwound at a different speed, at a pace out-of-sync with this one. In the process of this past week we entered an altered state. Our return has been populated, full of chatter, slick machines, cool, hard surfaces, and clean, bright interiors.
As two years ago, drops of hot water and sensations of clean clothes are filled with gratitude and mystery. It is bittersweet, as with these gifts comes distance from the simplification and clarity of what being so alive affords.
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