Thought 19: The Seasons of Our Days

Patterns and rhythms, patterns and rhythms...they play throughout our lives like sunlight playing through the leaves of a tree mottling the ground beneath with light and shadow. The syncopation of life is a story of patterns and rhythms - rising and falling, sustaining then changing - an orchestration of time and space - patterns of light and dark.

It fills our senses. Listen and you can hear it. Look and you can see it. You are immersed in it, cradled in it. One moment you are lifted by it's sweet metered pulse, and the next moment you are driven down by it's relentless pounding beat. It is life. It is equal to the same force that erodes deep canyons; abrading, carving, wearing - exposing the layers that time has deposited. It is the same force that pushed up mountains; tearing, crushing, driving - fiercely reducing granite to rubble and shaping rock like clay.

It is equivalent to the delicate beauty of a butterfly's wings, to the transparent aqua  blue-green of the curl of a wave. It is life. Hear it in the song of a bird. Feel your body move to it in the rhythm of day and night; of youth and old age; of life and death.

It is impermanent. It will not last, or ever be the same as it was sometime in the past. It is an amazing, powerful, delicate, creative gift that will ultimately end in your demise. It is Life.

I choose to love it. I choose to be grateful for it. I choose to make the most of it. I choose to live what time I have, as brilliantly as I can. I choose to celebrate myself and others on this wonderful journey. So here's to life! May we all live long and prosper.

Thought 17: Bits and Pieces That Come Together

I am walking along the beach, my feet grounded deep in the sand, my head in the azure, sun-drenched sky, and my body and spirit are connecting each to the other - a prism of joy, happiness and gratitude. I walk balanced between sand and sky - between earth and heaven, and the ocean sings to me. Its voice rising and falling, its waves flashing as it forms its language, unintelligible to the human ear but so enchanting. My heart dances with the waves, my rhythms become one with those of the wind and sea. I turn to see my footprints in the sand of where I have been, soon swept clean and erased by the water's ebb and flow. They are forgotten as I I look ahead, down the beach, at the stretch of bright white sand that teases me to continue my walk. This is the landing strip for my soul. I follow the sea birds as they dive and sweep, dart and call. I sit for awhile on the top of a dune, watching the wind move through the sea grass, stirring it into motion, rustling as it passes through the grass and trails off down the beach in small spirals of sand. This world of sea, and sand, and sun, is intoxicating, and I drink until I can't possibly take in any more. This day is a gift like no other, and I look forward to saying the same thing...tomorrow...and the next day...and the next...


This is my life, as I've always dreamed of it. I love my cottage by the sea "Coeur de la Mer". It is an indoor statement of light and water and sand so that it mirrors a sunny day at the beach. Piece by piece I found exactly what fit. Yard sales, estate sales, friends knowing just the piece. The interior is a lovely orchestration of gestures of art and love, in furniture and wood, in fabric and paint. Put your ear to this cottage and you can hear the ocean. Step out on the deck and feel the sea breeze as it pushes the hammock and the seat swing. Everything designed for comfort, designed to move, to give to hold, to nurture to welcome, it is all so familiar. White washed canvas artfully brushed with shades of sea greens and blues, of shell pinks and peaches, beautifully worn in just the right places. And all acquiesces to the expanse of white sand and dunes that is the beach. I have planted beach roses leading down the path to the beach. They remind me of days in Rhode Island ... but no rocky beach here, no. The harshness of the New England shore has been replaced by white beach and Atlantic swells. I love it so much that I can't see leaving yet. Other places will wait. I want to enjoy this while I have it. Impermanence is such that I want to roll in it like a dog in something that smells amazing - I want it all over me. If I leave I want to carry the smell with me.