Insects I don't know rise and fall in the forest spotlights. Everywhere green, because of the sun. I realized yesterday anew how the sun is a devouring energy, giving only as a by-product of existence. My heart swells and chest rises with it, yet Sol takes, too. How comfortable it would all be if one could convalesce in the give and take!
Last night in the dark behind my eyes, points of light vibrated with color and direction as if calling Whoever is me left the body and traveled into another open darkness. We embraced as Soul and spread out like hungry amoebas. Alive as Love.
The only way now is presence. One drops boundaries and sees that in many ways there were never really any there.
Barefoot all weekend, watching the flashing of water. The lighthouse stood at the end of the pier, a red arrow against the meandering blues of water and sky. I've thought about this extension before, the request for safe harbor and the words as gulls hovering, floating, diving around it. This, the backdrop of my origin. The sand and shore and trees and dunes . . . they all bend in an arc facing west, still reaching north, sheltering east. Can you see through the density? I am no longer in danger of running aground.
Are we not lighthouse and keeper? Sea and sky? Piney breezes on the upper bluffs?