Today I needed to run away.
I needed to be somewhere that wasn’t home.
I needed to breathe some new air.
I needed a space where my thoughts would be kind to me, less agitated.
I have missed re-connecting with the loner in me who dies just a little whenever the extrovert takes over the oxygen supply.
I needed to be by the sea. I needed to be close to my element.
I’ve been fortunate to have almost always lived by the sea. Now I’m even more fortunate in that I live on the South west coast of Norway, which boasts of spectacular beaches.
In the ebb and flow of this tide lies my peace and solitude.
As soon as the kids are in bed, I’m out of the door. I’m restless and unable to settle on any song as I drive. I’m greedy with longing for the bracing cool air, the taste of salt on my lips, the feel of sand in my shoes.
Longing to tune my heart to the rhythm of the waves.
15 minutes and I’m here.
This particular picture captures the light at the beach at around 9 in the evening.
Perched on a dune, looking out at this glorious calm, I can breathe again. Great, huge lungfuls of air – as if air was to be rationed shortly. The gentle lapping of the waves against the shore pulls me to the water’s edge and had it not been so cold, I would have begun to swim. I would have dived into the deep and relished the murky, pounding silence. I settle for splashing the sea water on my face and am delighted by the tingling of the skin, the salty dryness.
Facing the inexorable power of the sea; its potential for unfathomable violence; for subterranean calm, its easy to let go.
I can acknowledge that its not in my hands.
I can see the beauty of breathing from the pit of your being and releasing this invisible, yet heavy cloud of worry.
let me share with you the opening lines of one of my favourite poems by Thomas Hood:
There is a silence where hath been no sound,
There is a silence where no sound may be,
In the cold grave – under the deep deep sea.
And just like that, I’m ready to go home again.
picture credit: http://www.visitnorway.com