My companion and I walked down to the beach and sat on the plastic chairs. It was night. The sound of the waves breaking was loud. It was poetry. It was night but it was not totally dark. We were silhouetted by a big beam of light shining behind us from the beach house. The light cast shadows on the sand beneath our feet, and it made the ground look like the surface of the moon.
My companion could not keep quiet. She repeated in wonder: the weather is beautiful!
It was cool down by the beach and the wind blowing was refreshing. Not chilly yet. Just stimulating the senses. The word is invigorating.
My companion repeated: listen to the waves!
It was a succession of blessings, wonderment, and repeated commands to look! See! Isn’t it amazing?
I smiled mostly. At intervals, I murmured an agreement.
I could not get into a meditative mood. My companion, though enthralled with the view, could not settle down enough to absorb it.
She was like an excited child.
Soon, I started off on a tangent just like that out of the blue. That is what the sea does to me. It stirs memories. Out of a big murky cauldron, come figments of my life. I started to talk. My companion was silent long enough to listen to my storytelling.
She then turned to the sea and started to exalt again.
I picked up my camera and took a few shots of her profile. She was so excited at the results, she immediately posted to Twitter. She had to share with the rest of the world where she was, and the glory of the view.
I gazed up at the stars and thought about how minute we are in this vast universe. A trite and tired thought but no less wondrous no matter how many times we contemplate the insignificance of matters in the whole scheme of things.
The roar of the breakers increased and we decided to walk. My feet squished into the damp sand, enjoying the feel of the wet grains between my toes. My companion chose to keep her shoes on. I wanted to urge her to shed them, to touch Mother Earth. I kept quiet.
There was no moon. But the lights from the beach houses shone brightly as ten moons.
We went back up to the beach house.
And then this morning I woke up getting, I cycle to my garden-office this afternoon .
There in the hollow, valley stands a wooden picnic table. Such a wonderful place to sit in complete peace and quiet.
A light plane rumbling sound far up. Resounding German tourists away occasionally.
Surrounded by the brutal and lasting pine green bright green yellow orange fading leaves.
If I want to write wind I see them shaking move in a barely perceptible breeze.
I brought home from Osho’s book No:
Be serene without actually pursue. Sosan.
also a triangular azure stone.
Here at hand they symbolize the final order.
Final organization.
This rhythm of breathing hallucinatory memory.
This self-revealing unimaginable gift
freedom.
Questions such as an athletic runner evaporate away from sight and hearing.
Then on the way to stay, accommodations to allow a Heron
In the misty gray-blue sky the North Holland canal glide mirror.
I see both Heron and reflection space-time in between.
And … waiting for You
Your creative return.
Friday, October 28 between 14:00 ± 5:50 p.m..
Autumn would be good inspiration
Except we seemed to have skipped that season here