Watching the waves
The blog posts have been slow in the last week because I was making my way to one of my favourite places on the planet: PEI. It's been four years since our last trip here, and the island is as restful and beautiful and thoroughly alive as it is in my memory. Yesterday, we walked Brackley Beach - a perfect combination of wild beauty and gentle curves and teens playing frisbee and families building sand castles. Miles and miles of beach, so that it is never crowded, even when the sun is warm and the water is almost warm!
Whenever I can, I kick off my shoes and walk up to my ankles (or further) in water. I experience the waves through all my senses: it's not possible to separate the way they feel on my legs from the way they roll and sparkle as they move towards the shore from the sound of them lapping and splashing, from the smell of the salt in the air. To experience the waves on the beach is to use all of one's senses, to know the waves with all of one's senses, to let myself be immersed in the waves even when the water is only up to my ankles.
The waves repeat endlessly and soothingly and surprisingly. They are always and never the same. They are never boring.
Have you noticed yet that this post is another writing tip?
Whenever I can, I kick off my shoes and walk up to my ankles (or further) in water. I experience the waves through all my senses: it's not possible to separate the way they feel on my legs from the way they roll and sparkle as they move towards the shore from the sound of them lapping and splashing, from the smell of the salt in the air. To experience the waves on the beach is to use all of one's senses, to know the waves with all of one's senses, to let myself be immersed in the waves even when the water is only up to my ankles.
The waves repeat endlessly and soothingly and surprisingly. They are always and never the same. They are never boring.
Have you noticed yet that this post is another writing tip?
Comments