Sunburn

    With great reverence I honor the days wherein the world seems to know, in its own clever way, exactly what it is that I need. Today was a day that my heart was aching for. Fidelity pumping from my muscle mass of love, I had an inclination, a petite idea, of what it is that I was melancholy for. What a work of miracle when you get what you need and then some. Cherries on top. Cherries throughout. Using a cherry as lip stain on the beach with a woman I don't know how I met so late in my timeline. Very, very sweet. Very, very obvious that it would be this way all along. 

    By the ocean with my dear friend, looking around at all of the spirit living inside of the hidden coves and cracks within the tidepools, I saw starfish and snails. A peaceful, yet dangerous existence. Always at the mercy of the sea. Violent or serene. Unbending or forgiving. Constantly at the will of God. It reminds me of the choices I have every day. To be merciful or full of pride. 

    The starfish, in their rubber gowns, latch to the rocks and let the ocean breathe inwards and outwards. I see it as surrendering to the blue mouth of knowing. The ancient home we've lost our thread of communion with. Starfish appear to cling without worry. If they are taken away with a tide too brutish- that is the end of the sentence. I have so much to learn from the ocean. So much to learn from the bygone push and pull of God's dream. 

    And what a joy to play. To call to my sister and point at another aspect of this life and say, "look what I found!" For her to gladly indulge my wonder. This is all very captivating. A beautiful family of surfers are camped out next to our makeshift beach house, a blanket and kombuchas really. The father smiles at Ali Lou describing her dream breakfast, told to me in great detail as per my request. The mother sleeps in the shape of a ball in the sun. The daughter looks out into the ocean with a pensive look on her face and fingers through her hair. The son struggles to get his wetsuit off. The dog chews on a piece of driftwood and no one says a thing. Maybe it's better that way. 

    Many times, this day, I found myself saying, "I have to paint a picture of this ocean. These colors. I know I have to paint this." If only I had supplies with me. I could have spent the entire day listening to the stories of my friend and wrapped up in the color of the water. Maybe it had just been a long time since I have flirted with the sea in such a way. The colors are burned into my heart. The dark blue gently seeping into the crystal benevolent green. Clear as the day I meditated on the California coast and promised the water that I would create a good life for myself. 

    Years later, I can't say how much of this I've had a hand in birthing and how much of it has been constant surprises and good fortune. God has been creating this whole time and I'm playing in tidepools, blinking stupidly at the miracle of the world like a blind man kissing nirvana. My heart has a sunburn.