Going Deep at Dawn

Hello fellow Earthlings,

It's 2020. Doesn't that sound like science fiction? Given that I came to the Earth in this present body in 1969 in Earth years, the year Neil Armstrong walked on the moon (THE MOON!), 2020 sounds even more OUT THERE.  And what can I say? Have we gotten more Sci Fi? Have we destroyed this planet yet?

Not yet, friends, not yet. I could never have imagined that I'd be typing my thoughts into a computer for others to read. And these strange things called Facebook, Twitter, Instagram. We live our lives with our head in devices. Devices. gadgets that are meant to make our lives easier. I will admit, my iPhone has become part of my right hand. I'm not going to toss it in the ocean. It would take millions of year for it to decompose.

I woke up at dawn. My boyfriend was snoring away on his futon he brought out here. We were on different cycles last night. He came in late from Seattle after working a full day and all he wanted to do was grab a beer and lock himself away with Netflix. I had very different plans for the New Year. I wanted to go into it with eyes wide open. No alcohol or glass clinking for me last night. You could say it was a pretty silent night and it was very intentional.

I did a vision board for the New Year. I do one every new year, but this year my vision seemed particularly important. I'm getting a HUGE sign to let go of things that do not serve me any longer. Maybe it's because I'm now 50, I don't know? A girlfriend who turned 50 five years ago or so said, "It was like I was walking through a doorway and could only bring a few things, the rest I'd have to let go of." That's how I feel.

So what am I bringing into the New Year that serves me? Love for myself and my direction and goals, love for the earth, love for my partner, family and friends, good health, abundance, travel, a house of my own, book writing and book completion, creation of my own website with online classes, retreats and readings. First and foremost is being here NOW in Sequim, Washington and finishing my book. Well, and blogging...

At dawn I pulled on my jeans from the day before, a puffy long, powder blue jacket, scarf, hat, gloves and red rain boots and headed out into the darkness. It was as if the sound of the waves out on Dungeness Spit was drawing me to it like a magnet. Before leaving, I asked my boyfriend, "Do you want to come with me down to The Spit?" He mumbled something that was clearly an indication that he wanted to sleep more, so off I went.

I drove down Woodcock Road and turned right on Dungeness Spit Drive heading past red barns and cattle and green fields with the Olympic Mountains as a backdrop. The sun was starting show signs of itself and I was in a hurry to get to the sea. I was the first car in the parking lot. I have an annual pass to The Spit. It's the longest spit of sand in the U.S. and if you walk the entire thing down to the light house and back, it would be a total of 10 miles. I have yet to do that, but I will.

I decided to take the primitive trail through the woods down to the sea. I could hear the waves crashing on the shore in the distance and I had one thing in mind. I wanted to be down by the waves. I wanted them to pound through me and shake me wide open. I wanted the undertow to take with it all of the unwanted in me and the world. Take my anger, take my fights with my boyfriend about finances, take toxic people's comments, take all the disbeliefs, take hatred, take avoidance, take addictions, take pollution and human consumption, take all the ill of the world out into the swells and break them down, smooth them out and return to the shore the light, the kindness and the highest good.

A bit idealistic, isn't it Kathy? I thought out loud. My thoughts were forming their own swells in my mind as I walked at rapid speed over the damp, moist earth through a thicket of pine trees. I walked so fast I nearly trampled over a doe and her fawn. They stared at me through those big eyes. They were as still as stones and I became still too. My stillness made them comfortable and they stayed cleaning each other and munching on vegetation in the woods. They were so close I could touch them.

I carried on and eventually the primative trail spit me out at the ocean. Not a soul was in sight and the waves were so huge they devoured the entire walking area of the beach. I thought about turning around, but they called me to them. They called me out on The Spit where I had to walk very close to the roped off area that separated the beach from the bird sanctuary. Ocean spray covered my jacket and moved like lava up over logs and over my red boots. Salt from the water was in my hair and eyes and mouth. I wanted, in a weird way, to be consumed my those waves. Maybe I secretly wanted them to TAKE ME out into their swells and churn me through their underbellies smoothing me out like a stone with perfect rings around it that a fellow hiker might pick up and skip out into the quiet sea making new wishes for the new year.

A rainbow appeared in a cloud across from The Spit, illuminating the land on the other side. Snow mountains sat like majestic watchers of the land off to my left. The sun rose on the bird sanctuary side of The Spit slowly illuminating it from the lighthouse to where I stood. Majestic. All of it.

No, we weren't in danger of destroying the Earth. We were in danger of destroying ourselves and all the earth wants us to do is listen. I heard the squawking of an eagle overhead and looked straight up to catch a glimpse of it as it disappeared through the trees. I was alone on this thin stretch of sand with waves thundering against the earth.

In those moments, I felt cleansed and alive. I knew I would move forward no matter what. There was nothing stopping these waves. They were unforgiving and relentless in their will. They moved with force and purpose. And standing there, I knew I would do the same.