“Do we know within us
the call to change our heart?
If we do,
the Spirit is alive in us.”
~ The Monks of Weston Priory, New Life, New Creation
This time, knowing time has passed is a matter of profound gratitude. Rather than being swept by puzzlements past, my thoughts are set at ease that today is not last month. On an afternoon of subsided summer heat, suddenly cognizant of oceanic east winds, my steps drew me to the water’s edge. Although the ocean is daily within view, it is quite another thing to make the crags, waves, and sands into a destination. The soul must find its rest. Those sea-spiced winds called to remembrance a consolation that rises above circumstance.
Leaving aside confining walls and words, paved roads revealed rock ledges and large skies. Vastness changes context, removing constraints and thus subverting contained thoughts. Details lose their prominence beneath ceilingless celestial heights. It suffices simply to sit, aperch on a jutted emergence. Nothing else needed and no demands made. My eyes had only to behold, and take stock of my refuge. And with eyes closed, the Divine reassures by air current, spray, and seabird song.
Yes, I wrote a few words- a notebook being something of an appendage- but they did not amount to much. As sensible as it was to write, it did not matter whether the words made any sense. Just as it mattered less what I saw than it did to simply gaze seaward. All was in motion, save for my rocky perch. Watching tidal pools, pondering my own depletion brought to mind the prospect of passing into something new. Inlets need not strive to collect living water. They have only to behold.
Openness to replenishment is far more perception than action. It may be alighting by the ocean, unarmed by agenda. Or, as on a recent evening, it may be setting a chair into a library aisle of choice and reading portions of books. Phrased insights swirled to shore. Just enough to set forth again. Between work shifts and city errands, skies provide reference to the expanse I beheld above the waves. The seascape formed a kind of musical chord that conveyed an assuring grandeur. Added to this are wise words read and heard. The sum of the parts is brought together at the shores around my steps. Making note of the heavens, I ply the waters.