I'm in the middle of a stressful - well, I don't know what to call it. It's not an episode, or a cycle, or a incident. It's a sort of situation that I hope will resolve, will come to a peaceful and safe resolution. I won't go into details but do I need to? We all know what it's like to have a stressful situation that can't be instantly resolved, that needs to have a series of things happen - like, you know, recovery from an illness. You know it can't happen overnight, no matter WHAT you do. It just takes time. It's hard.
But here I am, in the middle (or, I don't know, maybe near the end) of my current troubles, and I was feeling the need to take some space, have a breather - but it was also one of those things that you can't just ignore. Work troubles, whatever - you watch a Woody Allen movie and for two hours you don't think about the troubles. This was not like that - there really was no way to really think about something else. It was too serious to get distracted. So what was there to do?
I went, instinctively almost, to the ocean. I figured, the ocean, right? It's very big. It's much bigger - and I guess, older - than all of my little problems, no matter how overwhelming they seem to me. It was a beautiful day yesterday, sun shining everywhere, even here in the fog bank, and hot, even. Not just warm but HOT, which is what you need to be comfortable at the ocean in San Francisco, which tends to be cold on all but the most blistering summer days. I grabbed a beach umbrella, a beach blanket and made my way to the end of Sloat. The parking lot was madness but amazingly, I found a spot right away. I went down, set up camp, ate a bagel I had brought and went out to the sea.
Instantly and immediately, I felt better. The surf hit my ankles, cold as - well, cold as the sea - and it was like a balm. Not to my body, but to my soul. Here it is, the edge of the continent. You know all those maps you see? The ones that show California, and then the ocean? Well, I was now standing right on that line. I was on the edge, but I didn't feel that way - I felt like I was in a cocoon, a warm comforting bed of sea and sand and sky. It was expansive as only the ocean and the sky in combination can be, but I did not feel like I was lost in a giant indifferent space. I felt like I was part of it.
I had brought along a book that explained all sorts of different sea spells a person could do, one of which involved giving the sea all your troubles to take care of. I won't go into how one does this, but it was relatively simple, and like all magic, really just required concentration, imagination and visualization. All I had to do to was confront, as fully as possible, what was going on - my fears, my feelings, my intentions, my desires and so on - and then give all that over to the sea. Which I did.
And then, once the sea received all of that, I felt much, much better. Not like the troubles had never been, for they were still going on, but as if it was now possible to find a way to navigate them with spirit and kindness. Part of the magic involves letting it go when you give it away, whatever IT is. The sea was going to take the troubling part of my troubles, and now all I was left with was life, which, I saw clearly, did not need to be dealt with. Life, like the sea, just is.
Later, when my fears and concerns came creeping back, I reminded myself that no, I had given all that over to the sea to deal with. It would be rude to take it back. It was not really even mine anymore. I reminded myself of this by remembering the surf at my ankles, and the way it seems like you are moving backwards when you stand still and let a wave recede from you. I thought about taking pictures when I was at the shore, so glittering and gorgeous was the water and the sunlight, but no, I thought. Why bother? I know what the sea looks like, and so do you, right? When I say all I had to do was picture the sea, you probably picture something in your own's mind eye.
And whenever I did just gently return to the idea that the sea was capable of absorbing - with no diminishment to itself, mind you - all of my human, time-bound, emotional thises and thats - the effect was almost miraculous. The situation is working along, and I am moving along too. But I've also got the sea on my side, and that's a great, great ally to have.
I guess what I'm saying is - talk about gratitude and gravitas; it's about time I mention the sea.
But here I am, in the middle (or, I don't know, maybe near the end) of my current troubles, and I was feeling the need to take some space, have a breather - but it was also one of those things that you can't just ignore. Work troubles, whatever - you watch a Woody Allen movie and for two hours you don't think about the troubles. This was not like that - there really was no way to really think about something else. It was too serious to get distracted. So what was there to do?
I went, instinctively almost, to the ocean. I figured, the ocean, right? It's very big. It's much bigger - and I guess, older - than all of my little problems, no matter how overwhelming they seem to me. It was a beautiful day yesterday, sun shining everywhere, even here in the fog bank, and hot, even. Not just warm but HOT, which is what you need to be comfortable at the ocean in San Francisco, which tends to be cold on all but the most blistering summer days. I grabbed a beach umbrella, a beach blanket and made my way to the end of Sloat. The parking lot was madness but amazingly, I found a spot right away. I went down, set up camp, ate a bagel I had brought and went out to the sea.
Instantly and immediately, I felt better. The surf hit my ankles, cold as - well, cold as the sea - and it was like a balm. Not to my body, but to my soul. Here it is, the edge of the continent. You know all those maps you see? The ones that show California, and then the ocean? Well, I was now standing right on that line. I was on the edge, but I didn't feel that way - I felt like I was in a cocoon, a warm comforting bed of sea and sand and sky. It was expansive as only the ocean and the sky in combination can be, but I did not feel like I was lost in a giant indifferent space. I felt like I was part of it.
I had brought along a book that explained all sorts of different sea spells a person could do, one of which involved giving the sea all your troubles to take care of. I won't go into how one does this, but it was relatively simple, and like all magic, really just required concentration, imagination and visualization. All I had to do to was confront, as fully as possible, what was going on - my fears, my feelings, my intentions, my desires and so on - and then give all that over to the sea. Which I did.
And then, once the sea received all of that, I felt much, much better. Not like the troubles had never been, for they were still going on, but as if it was now possible to find a way to navigate them with spirit and kindness. Part of the magic involves letting it go when you give it away, whatever IT is. The sea was going to take the troubling part of my troubles, and now all I was left with was life, which, I saw clearly, did not need to be dealt with. Life, like the sea, just is.
Later, when my fears and concerns came creeping back, I reminded myself that no, I had given all that over to the sea to deal with. It would be rude to take it back. It was not really even mine anymore. I reminded myself of this by remembering the surf at my ankles, and the way it seems like you are moving backwards when you stand still and let a wave recede from you. I thought about taking pictures when I was at the shore, so glittering and gorgeous was the water and the sunlight, but no, I thought. Why bother? I know what the sea looks like, and so do you, right? When I say all I had to do was picture the sea, you probably picture something in your own's mind eye.
And whenever I did just gently return to the idea that the sea was capable of absorbing - with no diminishment to itself, mind you - all of my human, time-bound, emotional thises and thats - the effect was almost miraculous. The situation is working along, and I am moving along too. But I've also got the sea on my side, and that's a great, great ally to have.
I guess what I'm saying is - talk about gratitude and gravitas; it's about time I mention the sea.
I think the sea has many wonderful properties of this kind. Pagans perform their rituals, artists draw their inspiration, and pirates say "arrr".
ReplyDeleteI'm glad this time the sea helped you get some distance from your troubles. You always seem to find the appropriate distance from which to view all things. I'm not saying it's easy. But you do seem to have that special talent.