Wade a minute´╗┐

     

“When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs. When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence.” -Ansel Adams

So grateful for this time listening to the ocean roar. 

Grateful that this home, ‘the ocean house’ is like a living time machine. Or is it time capsule?  I remember bringing Otto here when he was Hugo’s age and Hobbsy’s here for his first tounge-out-panting like a pup in a car ride trip. Taylar’s 13th birthday horse ride on the beach.. So many and’s. Thanks Aunt Chris and Uncle Dennis for being the generous couple who loan their beach oasis out to us each time we request it. They seem to have some well resovoir of giving. I am taking notes.

Grateful that our families graciously hosted us along the way. Reconnecting with them was just as divine as the whole sand dollars we collected at low tide. 

Mostly I am grateful for the quietness. (being mostly phone free for 5 days) Not to be confused with non-communication. There was plenty of that. Just not with Facebook. Or Instagram. Or texting hilarious GIF’s. The communion was within. Silence served me in ways I hadn’t realized my soul needed. Internet-less me had found space to  listen to all the old tapes and storylines like you would mix tapes on a long road trip when the radio turns fuzz. The oldies that trigger the same sights and sounds from a decade ago. This time I could be a gracious host. Welcome each one. 

Resentment is the too long version for fear. Fear is another mask the ego wears. Acronym for ego; edging God out. The ego’s job, poor thing-what a miserable existence, is to kill me so that it can live.  The only way to ‘kill me’ is to cut me off from Love. It accomplishes this by judgement. ‘You’re bad. I’m right! It’s all going to hell in a hand basket! ‘ basically Judge Judy and she puts up with nothing from no one. But here’s the simple truth; you exist, you were made perfectly in Love and that’s a miracle! You belong here. 

So, I did the unthinkable and forgave everyone for everything- fancied or real. Myself included. I forgave myself at 15 and 16- and all the teen’s. I forgave myself through my twenties when I was supposed to be an adult because I could actually vote and drive and pay taxes but really I had always been 13 and I did what most 13 year olds do- blamed you for all the things that weren’t right in MY life. Forgave that crap all up.  I forgave myself for being 30 and not more organzied, tidy and fore-thoughtful. For not being more disciplined and just more of al the things I believe I should be.  I forgave you and them  for all the perceived slights, the actual and unintentional and anything that was renting out the deepest corridors of my soul. Forgiving isn’t about erasing the past. Forgiving is about knowing that all this crap can be used for good. Like corn kernels into your new tires. It shows me where my edges are. It shows me where my buttons are installed and why are they there in the first place?! That is safe for no one. Disarm.  I didn’t plan this spiritual heavy lifting for our ocean trip. It occurred like tide pools do. And I don’t know why or how those happen either.  All I can say is

we’re all free now. 

Now, go on. Scoot! Scram, kid!  Take a hike on the expansive toll free grace lined highway. It’s ecstasy on the other side.