A Monday morning beach walk and lessons to learn from this season.
The privilege of being here, first thing on a Monday morning. The emptiness. The people have gone: the day-trippers, the picnickers, sandcastle makers and sun-bathers. Those from the human world that remain are the hardy swimmers, the determined joggers, the forced out by their hound dog-walkers and me. We’re here to embrace the season, not fair-weather seaside goers. We are here, present and alive. This is a privilege not available to all and for some, even local people like me, the journey here has been long. This freedom and joy have been preceded by pain and an awakening. The transformation is here, I step into it, into an authentic life. I have felt all the feelings, I have leant into them and let them sit with me and walk with me in this place. As the world turns and autumn is with us, I embrace it, thank goodness there is some certainty. The emptiness of the beach reminds me of my need for solitude, I think, but no it’s not that its authenticity. Not to be in the crowd but to be discerning and be with those who nourish me. It’s okay to be part of the few not the masses.
The tide is high, smoothing the sand and blurring the edges. This season is washing away what no longer serves me. I see it going out to sea. The sky is grey, filled with clouds as if from a watercolour palette. Grey and white smudged together into one. The sea mirrors the sky, as always, a liquid silver. In this grey I acknowledge the work I have done facing my darkness, my shadow side. I know this contrasts with the warmth in my life and I am grateful. Then all of a sudden, the light bursts through the clouds and the grey turns to blue, the most perfect of perfect sky blues. The clouds break up into fluffy cotton wool and the sun is so bright I can no longer look. But I trust it is there and always has been.
Life can be like this; starting the working week on a beach, tasting the sweet jam and being filled with awe and wonder. What is autumn teaching you?
With thanks to Brigit Anna McNeill and her journaling prompts.
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