Lately, the sea is calling me. And I live no where near it. Being a grand lover of woodland landscapes, fresh water creeks and leaf-litter carpets, it confounds me, this new and sudden obsession with the sea. Its colors and textures and sounds and treasures. Pale blue sea glass. Conical shells. Sand in my shoes. Salted, wrinkled fingertips. Meditative, repetitive foam-capped waves. Sun and wind and odors of wetness. In my waking dreams, I am lying on the shoreline, baptized repeatedly by the flow and the ebb. Welcoming and releasing, birthing and dying. Surrendering to each cleansing surge and retreat.
Unlike the compressed safety of the woods, the sea is wide open. There is no where to hide when standing on a shoreline. There is only exposure and vulnerability and the need for daring to face the unyielding elements. To face the storms and not be dragged to the bottom of the final frontier. To survive and thrive and wring happiness from a storm-soaked heart and mind. This is the message of my obsession. This is the challenge I have asked for as I seek spiritual growth and inner strength. To know when it is time to exchange the woods for the sea and witness my evolution in the face of high winds and unruly waves. To expose myself on the shore of the unknown and come away knowing I was never vulnerable to begin with. Because everything is survivable when faced in the wide open. When faced head on. When faced with the truth in my heart.
"Stop hiding", calls the sea. Be willing to risk exposure. Be willing to risk the previously unthinkable, vulnerable adventure. To risk the great love, the great dream, the great release of old wounds. "Stand on the shore, lie on the shore. Just be willing to show up and get wet", calls the sea. It asks me to be willing to face what must be faced, then marvel at the treasures that wash up at my feet.