"Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all the darkness."—Desmund Tutu
Have you ever stared at patterns on your walls or ceiling, the patterns the sun makes early in the morning as the light streams through the windows? Or listened to the sound of the rain on the roof? Or heard and even felt the wind howling outside shaking the windows in their frames? That wind is so loud that you can feel the air in the bedroom charged with its energy.
All of this energy pulls me out from the warmth of my house, right out into the raw elements.
Down the the road from me, here in Eastham, is First Encounter Beach, where Pilgrims encountered Natives of this land for the first time. When I walk around this area, I feel that even though this land is very narrow in its width, its deep in its history and there's so much to learn from it. I'm not talking about learning from books, although I'm finding those to be interesting, but more from the land itself.
When Scott goes off to his carpentry job each morning after a breakfast together of coffee and oatmeal, I immediately pull on my rubber boots if it's low tide or I slip on my tennis shoes if the tide is a bit higher. If the tide is low, I can walk way out on the flats, much like walking on the moon, I imagine. I like the ripples in the sand that the waves leave behind. Today, I saw intricate lines in smooth sand that left vein-like features that appeared to be tree branches with long, deep roots.
The patterns the water leaves in the sand are so alive. They are the earth's symbols and they are everywhere. The sand reminds me that whatever I see today, won't be there tomorrow. When the tides come in, all of it gets washed away.
This morning, before getting out of bed, I did the mistake of checking in on the news. And then checking Facebook. I saw comments by people who were so angry, unhappy, and divided. People were calling each other names and were fighting for 'their side,' saying the other was wrong or at fault. I feel so removed from it all out here. I'm not ignorant of what is going on. But what do I accomplish by fighting on the computer with others? Or insisting that I have all the answers. Truthfully, I'm less and less inclined to even check and see what's going on because there's so much going on RIGHT HERE and what goes on in the news feels a bit overwhelming, out of my control and even quite surreal. Sometimes I entertain the idea of disappearing for a year into the wild, away from the need to connect by phone or computer. I wonder what would happen after a year of being away with no news? Would people still be fighting about politics? Would there be more hatred in the world? Or would people find a way to really witness each other, really hear each other? Well, as the old adage goes, 'There's nothing new under the sun.' The sun has, in fact, seen it all. Maybe that's why it was such a strong teacher for me today.
Today everything was about LIGHT: sunlight through my windows, sun patterns on my wall, sun on the beach, sunlight on my face. A worker smoking a cigarette behind Cumberland Farms said, "Hey, What a beautiful day, isn't it? It feels like spring!" I love the directness of people here. There's no hesitation in them telling you how they feel. I couldn't have agreed more. It was gorgeous.
I must have walked 5 miles today around my hood. I walked from my home to Thurmpertown Beach and then down Thumpertown Road to Brackett Road where I visited the tiny North Eastham Post Office to check my post box for mail. Then I walked from Campground Road to Bay Road and back to the house.
Always, at the start of my walk, my mind rehashes thoughts about this or that. My mind goes from the past to the future in an instant. Eventually my mind settles comfortably in on now.
What's happening now?
Now I'm feeling my feet in my shoes. Now the blue sky against the green of the pines on Thumpertown Road is so vivid. Now a woman in a white jacket with a white-patterned hat with ear flaps just passed me on the other side of the road and waved. Now I see green grass poking through the pine-needled sides of the road. Is spring already on its way? Now a red cardinal just fluttered past me onto an oak branch. Now I must cross the street, are there any cars? Wow, it feels like a ghost town around here, I like it. Now the sun is beating on my face as I change direction. Now I close my eyes and feel the sun fill me up from head to toe. Now I move at a steady pace, my legs working without me needing to tell them to move. How miraculous this body is! How amazing this earth is!
These are my thoughts as I move into the now. And most of the time these thoughts fall away and all I feel are sensations. In those moments, I am connected to, not separate from, everything.
And this is why I followed the light outside today. It's also why I've opened a window to feel the wind on my face or sat up on my upper balcony to watch a meteor shower.
I won't stop doing this. In a world that currently feels out of control with humans in charge, the sun said, "Don't worry, we've seen this all before. Stay in the light."
Join me for a 5-week Intuitive Writing journey called Living a Life with Intention starting on January 21st. I'd love to see you there.
