Today I walked with a friend to Tennessee Valley beach.  The waves were huge and we kept our eyes on their passage, moving back and forth on the sand in response.

I hadn’t seen her in years, and just happened to catch a glance of her at our local market.  We agreed to meet. She is here from New Mexico for a few days.

She, her husband, and others, have worked hard to turn New Mexico “blue”.

She reminded me of when a rogue wave at Tennessee Valley grabbed her and carried her out to sea, then, bringing her back, dumped her against the cliff.  What guided her was a hole in the rock above. I pointed out that a huge piece had dropped and now the hole was gone. It was open.

We spoke of the wound of my brother passing on April 14th, 2019.  Now as I continue to re-visit Alison Wright in Learning to Breathe, I read this.  

 “I believe when you lose someone who’s loved you, that person’s energy and spirit become a part of your being, and you become more powerful than you’ve ever been.”  

I sit here tonight embracing my power and strength, though I feel tender, gentle, raw, and soft.  

The hole is gone, rock open to sky

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