… on a good morning
April 11, 2017
The little beach on the island is quiet in the early mornings and late afternoons, even in summer. But in the midst of the busy season, the shells and pieces of sea glass are far fewer in number, constantly collected by treasure hunters, big and small.
In spring, before the crowds come, the sea glass – smooth and untouched – exists in small gatherings, here and there, as if plotting the coming season. Perhaps scheming on where to lay themselves out for optimum exposure. Who knows who will get the best jar or pail or special bowl, to be placed on the best shelf or window sill, admired in the days and weeks and years to come…
The small pools that formed as the tide backed off weren’t filled with many crawling or skittling critters (other than the microscopic kind, maybe), but the greening up of certain seaweeds seem to be happening – or it’s the spring sun’s optical illusion. I’m learning names like ‘rockweed’ and ‘knotted wrack’ and ‘egg wrack’ (all the same things – so confusing) and also ‘dulse’ and ‘irish moss’ and ‘false irish moss’.
I’m thinking false irish moss is a bit of a rogue, leaning toward the inauthentic (and also identity theft). I’ll let you know when I spend a little time with it. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.
I loved spending a bit of time alone here, poking among the rocks and pools at low tide after a rather stressful week. I thought a bit, driving up this time, about the idea of being able to ‘escape’ to Maine.
When I said I was heading up, a friend wished me a nice getaway and it hit me sort of funny. It wasn’t the wish (it was a very nice wish), but I’ve always had a strange reaction to felicitations implying that this place is an escape from ‘real life’.
I think of coming here – of being here – a bit differently.
I think, if we are lucky, we discover places where we come back to ourselves. These are not spaces for running away to, for turtling – to pull in and away from our everyday lives . These are places for opening up. These can be ourselves, know ourselves, own ourselves in a way that allows us to tap into the magic this world offers.
There is still work, still bills and taxes and winning and losing sports teams… elating and frustrating everyday and worldwide happenings. But somehow the truly meaningful is closer to the surface in these corners of the world.
It’s not about running away from life. It’s arriving to it.
And this place sure does it for me.
Thanks for readin’.
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