336: this magic world

Ahhhhh, I had a whole day off. (thanks to my sweetie!)

I slept in till ten. Stayed in bed for another hour, leisurely chatting on the phone with an old friend.  Then it was time for coffee.

Mug in hand, I headed to the shade behind the raspberry patch. I curled up  in my light blue pladirondack chair and  finished reading a novel I had started the night before, The Mermaid Chair by Sue Monk Kidd. I enjoyed  it, but it wasn't great. I think I'll reread her first novel, which I absolutely loved: The Secret Life of Bees.

Afterward, I  took an outdoor shower for the first time in years.  It felt like I was washing with  blue sky and sun instead of soap and water.

Ahhhhh. Magic.

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I keep meaning to show you this:

You may have noticed it  on my desk  in the Studios feature.

Let's look inside:

mmmm, that's sweet.

I love that, "someday he will fly on magic wings."

What magic bits...................

I feel like the third one down. In an awkward state of transformation. Not what it used to be, but not yet fully formed and able to hop and swim around gracefully.

Is that frog on the bottom waving or high-fiving? Ha, just noticed he still  has his tail in that image!

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After running some errands yesterday, I went to Craigville Beach. Yes, I finally went swimming! The water was so warm and welcoming. I bounded right in and dove under the surface. The words came the second I was fully submerged, "This is who you are..." A kiss on the forehead from my old friend, the ocean.

My mom always said that salt water is good for healing wounds. I was there to do that. At the same beach, in that same salty bath that I have been healing myself in since I was a little kid. The waves, the heaviness of the water... it comforts me. It's my place. How many times have I brought myself here? To escape, to grieve, to share it with a friend, to play...

Just a couple of weeks ago, thrashing around within myself, I walked for an hour. Letting go of a painful relationship...Trying to outpace the grief and despair, the disbelief, the loss...the anger.  The waves drenching my dress up to mid-thigh, I trudged and sloshed through, sobbing the whole time, unable to stop until I returned to my car, spent.

That feels so long ago, already. I have found some peace since then. Maybe it was the salt water.

Yesterday....After a nice long dip, I sat in a chair a few feet from shore.  The rocks and shells collected by the waves, an irregular crunchy stripe along the sand. Of course, I thought of Michael, whose ashes I helped scatter right there, just a couple of steps away. He thought of this place as his, too.

You know how they capture and tag animals and send them back out into the wild to be tracked? I wish I could have done that with Michael's ashes. I wish the bits of him would light up for me as I make footprints in wet sand.

Is there a place that helps you remember who you are? A place that holds your history, that calms your heart?

Where do you go to be healed?

 xo,

m