From the Pacific with Love

I write to you from the ocean, where I will sit and meditate today. Amongst the succulents which cover the cliffs, with flowered pops of color. The waves are large in the cool western breeze.

A woman in a van decorated with nature, pulls her clothes from the side door, as she listens to the radio. Channeling her inspirations. Her dashboard is decorated with a picachoo in hippy glasses. Furs, metals, and feathers. I wonder what her story is. A transient tale it seems.

The old woman with white long hair in blue shorts and a white T-shirt marches down the cliff, as she does everyday about this time. She is life inspiration. Mystery surrounds her, but everyday she is moving forward. Smiling strong, a keeper of many stories.

Oddly similar, yes we are. It’s the chemical makeup of stars. The dust of their lives rained down upon this earth. Born into so many characters with hobbies and lifestyles of different kinds.

Surfers jump in from this point. They crawl down through the succulents. Like a tunnel. Where a man is bowing down into the tide pools, he dodges the wash of the bigger waves. Aiming his camera into the water. Touching the seaweeds, and looking for some type of creature. Maybe some inspiration or a meal? I wonder.

I love how the tips of the waves turn glass green as they thin to curl. I love how you can smell marijuana upon the breeze of a western sky. I love the sea in December. I look out across to Monterey.

Imagining the magnificent whales, and their world which lay completely invisible to me, blanketed by the water. Everyday until I’m 29. This is what they call a Saturn Return? I feel a complete surge of power.

The salt air cleanses my senses! In through my nostrils it sails. It fills my lungs with pure life. The cool air oxygenates my heart. The breath begins to unwind my nervous system. The programming begins to fall away.

The hunch around my heart begins to open awake. The waves grow, as I spot some sea otters playing. A flock of birds. The freedom I feel here is barely expressable by words.

A man stumbles out of his car. With a bandana tied around his head like a crown. He finds a piece of plastic upon the pavement, picks it up to examin it, wipes it on his thumb, licks his thumb, and then tosses the plastic back into the wind. Do you think he’s always checking random trash for the remnants of drugs?

The sun takes stress away like the way love melts the heart, the muscle, the marrow, the brain: the body lets go of years of sedimentation. The childhood pains of this American life.

The man continues to look for things on the pavement. Is that a whale on the horizon? The air fills with Memphis blues, and rock ‘n roll. The South always finds the girl after she has left.

There is no denying a western heart, it’s longing for the true meaning of freedom and equality. I feel the pains of our ancestors. I reach into the ocean to wash them away. To integrate them into a better tomorrow. I explore freedom from the standpoint of a cell. Looking deep into the hips, where deep pains reside. I fill the northwestern breeze here and then I let it drain the hips free. As everything escapes on the exhale the tumbling of the wave.

A man with a carton of ice cream and a spoon steps out of his car and climbs down into the succulents. Barefoot and disheveled, perhaps he has to better perspective than you or I.

A growl of hunger from deep within. Over time the sound of waves washes my brain of any pre existing patterning.

Hollow and empty, more full than ever filled. Living in nature. Tuned in to the animals. Pulsing with force. Raw hearted nature. Surrendered in play. Laughing, loving, dreaming, exploring.

Brave dedication rises from center. A bell rings in the wind. The heart lets go of this deep holding.
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