There are many versions of the “Is that so?” story but the gist is that whatever happens there’s a positive and negative to it, depending on interpretation and so the point is to ride balanced up and down in the middle of the waves.
Perhaps watching waves for days creases the breathing like an envelope allowing a container of shared connection and exchange.
I am home now, feeling rested, gentle, and peaceful. We’ve gone from 95 degrees last Monday to wetness and the heater running today, from airy tops to sweaters, all in a week.
Driving down the coast this last week, we passed a multitude of pumpkin patches, and now the air is filled with the scent of fall, with that tingled lift to drop into a season rich with celebration, gathering, and reflection, a deeper knowing of the ocean and its waves.
The irony here is that I need to nest ever more clearly in “Is that so?” since I’m having major problems with WordPress and am struggling to post. My computer locks up and I go through a bunch of steps and so I’ll see how the day unfolds.
On another note, when I was on the shuttle this weekend going along the coast from one place to another, I pointed out to the shuttle driver the cairns of stones, the piles so carefully constructed and balanced by tourists on the beach. He responded that the stones hold the beach in place; they are homes for little creatures. At night, the locals place the stones back, as much as is possible, to where they belong.
I thought of how we want to create and influence our environment, but it’s important to note when it’s intrusive, not needed, destructive, or too much. It’s why I study Sensory Awareness, to balance in place, this moment, now.
And now, in this moment, I post, considering how to balance the stones of my life in a cairn of coming together and falling apart, always with the awareness of balancing acceptance and surrender in a philosophy of: “Is that so?”