Explorations by the Sea
Pink, yellow, green, blue: The soft pink of apple blossoms that settle beneath rusty red clusters of leaves in the scraggly branches of our tree; the vibrant yellow gorse flowers in full bloom on the stiff, rugged bushes beneath; the clear blue of the daylight sky beneath the cold, bright sun; the green lawn overgrown, scattered with swamp-like miniature cattails and patches of daisies.
These are the colors of spring: cold, clear spring, with periodic showers, occasional days of heavy gray skies and chilly rains, the last grasping clutches of the misty gloom of winter. It is the fire that keeps us warm, in this house built on stilts beside the sea. We chop the wood into quarters outside the front door, to keep the fire hungry; coal, to keep the fire hot. Shovelful by shovelful, to make this rustic cave a home.
Beneath all human ambition there exists a cold, concentrating core, tight with tension, motivated by desire. Desire to maintain, desire to create. Desire to change the present situation from the circumstances under which it is subject to those which the creator envisions. Tight pressure from within, rippling out, creating change. Seeking more. The waves lap at the sandy, pebbled shore, crashing and shaping the clay-slate landscape of the rugged coast; the hungry surface of a greater depth.
We walk the coastline, through grasses and across trickling brooks which feed into the sea, gathering pocketfuls of smooth rounded stones, perfect dusky shells with their opalescent centers, smooth bits of driftwood worn white from the salt of the waves. The birds chirp their continuous song, passed from one tree to another until it is lost in the murmur of the waves, crashing against the shore, pulling back into the sea.
Ready we are, with a sure and steady foot, stepping quickly into the changing tides: mind and body to accompany the soul, hand in hand, forward we go.