After seeing my photos of the ocean, a friend wrote that she could tell the ocean pulls me and grounds me at the same time. What an amazing thing to know from a photo.
Seven days the first week of April–spring break–in Santa Rosa Beach, Florida, in a house right on the beach–days I can’t seem to stop thinking or writing about.
Seeing, hearing, smelling, living the ocean–I just felt great. Each moment was wider than normal. Each day had a rhythm and an arc.
I’ve never been one to appreciate or mark the beginning of the day. I’m not much in the morning. But at the end of each one of these,
I paused to watch the sun disappear into the o c e a n.
“Island living has been a lens through which to examine my own life…I must keep my lens when I go back… I must remember to see with island eyes. The shells will remind me; they must be my island eyes.”
Amelia Island, Florida
Anne Morrow Lindbergh, Gift from the Sea
One thing to remember, to breathe–in and out like the waves. And with each breath, to notice the treasures that appear.
This morning I’m searching for shapes, instead of schedules.
What shape will today take–will these writings take?
In Gift from the Sea, Anne Morrow Lindbergh wrote, “The pattern of our lives is essentially circular.”