Another day, another pilgrimage down the beach. The mist was thick and I loved the solitude along the way. The sun broke out in my path as I walked along, yet I couldn't see much behind or ahead.
It is such a creative time for me...how did I get along with out this force before? My mind is bombarded with glorious thought, one right after another, such plans! Then real life as always intrudes when I return home, plans in mind. Thoughts evaporate just as that morning fog burns off or drifts away.
I walked both sides today. The edge and shore, and close to the dune. Torn between. Drawn to both. A metaphor for my current place in time. The face has gone, now just words upon the screen.
The face that I know so well is comfortable, safe. A different kind of love. Not the butterflies in your stomach love, but the constant, low drone of consistent love. Complacent, yes...not exciting, yet still solid and comforting.
And so, my Treasures. Along the way I created a few new cairns up out of the way of the tides, at least until the next full moon and high tide. I gave a nod to those that stand guardian. There it was, like an apparition through the mist, yet the sun shone on it's spot most magical. In my youth I'd busy myself out in the woods for hours on end fixing places of welcome. Gathering moss to soften, flowers to brighten or incarnate a magical experience for unseen forces. I can still see the Fairy forts, Tolkien inspired, or invoked by mystical Castenada.
I entered through the path, a proper gateway. I tidied the entrance, straighted up stray pieces that toppled in the night, primped here and there, and then created my gift. Simple treasures and yet profound when presented to this assembly of spirit. Special.
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