the sea, the sea

(I've used this photo before, but I wanted to show you what I was talking about in this post! The wall that looks like it is holding the sea back is the Breakwater)

We went down to the beach this morning. It was too cold to play or to dance so we held hands clumsily, our gloves between us. It was the first sunny morning we have had for ages. We emerged from our cave, blinking in the unaccustomed light.

It was something we had to do. We had to reconnect with our neighbor. The ocean welcomed us with a roar. The tide was going out so the beach was heavy with water. Usually I stop and look for sea glass but it was just too cold today.

We climbed up on the 'Breakwater.' This is a wall that was built to protect the beach and the village from the worst of the weather. On the other side of the beach there is only the sea wall beside the road. On stormy days at high tide the waves crash up onto the road and the houses beyond. It is an awesome sight. It is slightly safer to stand and watch when the waves hit the wall of the Breakwater. I am always tempted to run down across the beach and stand under the waves as they crash against the concrete, swelling up and over the wall and the cliffs. The power and the energy is compelling and addictive. I want to be a part of it.

(This is Mark standing on the Breakwater. Sometimes the waves are so big that they'll be higher than the top of the photograph - we don't stand there then!!)

It was this photograph that made me the most introspective today. (Mark took it!) I love the way that this wall divides the beach from the ocean. It is beautiful in it's unnatural, man-made sort of way. Many times we will go down to the beach to find that the waves have broken through the wall and it is being fixed. Many times they rebuild it, hoping that it will protect the beach and the boats and the village from the pounding of the waves. But the ocean always wins in the end.

I have been reading so many blogs lately (including my own) that talk about people's struggles with letting go, allowing all of the parts, being wild, reclaiming their badness, their instincts, their bodies, their fears and their lives. Liz Elayne called it the 'whisperings of a movement' and I think she's right. So many of us are struggling so hard against being, doing, feeling, knowing so many things. I think that today I will take my lesson from the ocean. It ebbs and flows. It follows its own cycles. As it moves, it dislodges the old muck - leaving it high and dry on the beach. Its energy and persistence can carve rock, hold life, and break down walls. It doesn't do what it's told. And no matter how hard people try to make it otherwise, the ocean always wins.

"Eternity begins and ends with the ocean's tides." - unknown