Ooh-la, sometimes I feel like I’m a week behind myself, in what I have to get done, inside a schedule somehow blurred at both ends. Sometimes I feel like there will be no end to “politics as usual” and sad at how easily we seem divided. This is when I know it’s time to let myself catch-up and listen for the REAL news. This is when I head for a beach walk, forever the shore bird with an air of expectancy. I will find what I need there.
Dressing for the mizzle, I put a few light layers underneath a good, thick hoody. I slipped a Hershey bar in the pocket (we Brits don’t go on adventures without chocolate!) and headed just down the road to Joemma Park. Timing was good, with the tide a fair ways out.
Kim was right; the beach was a treasure-trove of driftwood dragons and their stone eggs. The water was gentle, reflecting silver of the sky, and the islands were half hidden in the dripping mist. A soft breeze blew out the daily chatter from my brain and light raindrops washed the tension from my face. When I felt I’d been quieted and cleansed, I was ready for a little mossback magic and began searching for the rock that would tell me a real story.
It never seems to take long for one to pull on my eyes and ears, reaching up for me…and there it was, a funny little chap who jumped in my hand. I slowly rolled it around in my palm, noticing how it was made up of many different types of stone.
Dressing for the mizzle, I put a few light layers underneath a good, thick hoody. I slipped a Hershey bar in the pocket (we Brits don’t go on adventures without chocolate!) and headed just down the road to Joemma Park. Timing was good, with the tide a fair ways out.
Kim was right; the beach was a treasure-trove of driftwood dragons and their stone eggs. The water was gentle, reflecting silver of the sky, and the islands were half hidden in the dripping mist. A soft breeze blew out the daily chatter from my brain and light raindrops washed the tension from my face. When I felt I’d been quieted and cleansed, I was ready for a little mossback magic and began searching for the rock that would tell me a real story.
It never seems to take long for one to pull on my eyes and ears, reaching up for me…and there it was, a funny little chap who jumped in my hand. I slowly rolled it around in my palm, noticing how it was made up of many different types of stone.
Yes (the story began) I am one and I am many. Delight in the difference but hold together, strong. Splintered, how easy to wear down to piles of shifting sand, only temporary and uneasy ground. Together we are unique, complete, one and many. Don’t ask for change…change. Change to unify and become the rock on which your future can stand.
I let the truth of that story soak in with the salty air and the sweet chocolate, slipping the rock into my pocket to come home with me…and te
ll me the story again and again.
I let the truth of that story soak in with the salty air and the sweet chocolate, slipping the rock into my pocket to come home with me…and te
ll me the story again and again.
