La Mer

~written June 9, 2011~

After a few patience-testing piano lessons this morning, I came down here to the sea. It's a beach I've never been to before, hidden behind the green-grown dunes. The small strip of sand winds around the edge of the turquoise sea, hugging the shoreline as it faces the unending ocean. It isn't the best place for swimming, as the reef grows close to the foamy fringe of surf, leaving a few feet of shallow water to wade in. But it is a good place to come away to - to piece back together the puzzle of sanity and serenity. Beach grass below a shade tree becomes my blanket and the tree trunk my pillow, while the white-on-blue layered sea is my vision. It is a place to watch the sea birds, the crabs, as they scurry on the sand - to contemplate the miles to the horizon and how to get there - to walk on water. I smell salt more than sunscreen here - a good sign that I am at last alone, reassured that God is in His heaven and all is right with the world. The unadorned tangled web we weave and the white noise of peace are the sandy spoils of the sea. 

With heart and soul I fly to the unbending horizon, with shaded eye sails and no rudder at all but the sea breeze and the sea skies and the seashine. The music of heaven and the beating of true hearts resound with the waves as we float away from the quivering leaves of our trouble trees. If only I were a mermaid. But I am more like a crab underground, afraid. If only, and I could be a gypsy of the water, unabashed and bold, with a current-bending will. I could fly undersea with the sea-strained stars overhead and drowned sailors by my side. Captain of my sea-urchined fate, controller of my sea-watered world. 

No. Dry-footed I stand. Crab-legged and sea-stunned on the shore. Not able to fly, above sea or below. Stick of driftwood in my hand and sand in my heart. It is enough for now, to quiver slowly between the worlds, half-wet. It is enough for dreams.