Things go sideways sometimes

The oceans calls with her fingers
Stretching out long and curling back
like an evil storybook character
luring me toward danger,
disguised and dressed up pretty

Curious,
I seek the shoreline
and ultimately I am struck
by her patient status

Unsure of anyone's
"status"
these days

I wait alone
I walk alone
I think alone

Scouring for treasures
in the form of
glass
wood
stone

I collect
And notice
I feel
And form
ideas

Inside I become aware
of a deep drive
that originates
within and belongs
only to me:
to urge to create

I feel compelled to make art
with her offerings,
and feel sure of this,
yes,
that indeed will be
my next best thing to do

And as I step
closer toward her
wake, I am caught
off balance by the
deep grooves
awaiting her return

Running counter
to my direction-
spongy and soft,
they hold an equally
noticeable and enduring
strength beneath the weight of my feet
a tender ability, unpronounced

Suddenly, I heed
the invitation before me:
to follow wonder and walk sideways
along these gullies and remember

Hearing the messages
of her recession,
low tide's reset is calling
for a different route

Forward directionality
is not the only way
to get where we want
to be

To be...

Who do we want to be?

How do we get to her?

Walking sideways,
I will stay open and
brave, paying close attention
to the off track paths
as they gift us new rewards

Outside the box solutions
Online art lessons and read alouds
Bike rides without time frames
Yard work without hassle
Back deck sunsets consumed wholly
Writing that streams endlessly
Naps that restore and revive
Projects new and old
Neighborly gestures
Thoughtfulness shared daily
Silver linings treasured
Educational ingenuity
Beach combing slowly
Baking with adventure
Organizing deeply
Cleaning without rushing
Drawing boundaries
Communicating needs
Taking breaks
Retreating and then
reemerging to keep going

Letting go

Previous problems are past
Future fears are unknown

So we get back to the
Business of now
pushing away the
Busy-ness of being busy

We are not busy

Not while the waves
are still out there
receding and flexing
also not rushing to
return, or so it seems

But like all systems
the curve will flatten

And she will be back
and so we will we

But how will we be?

Can we absorb
this pace and
resist hopping
back into the race?

Her voice could not
be more clear:
there is no final destination
the journey is back to ourselves

And there is no
malice in this
invitation,
no poison apple
being offered

Because this chatter
is born inside of ourselves
It can be heard in your
own voice

This is the antidote
This is the truth
Your words are
your center
And they shall
set you free

Be curious,
listen long,
and go find
yourself.