Beaches. She told me how beautiful her pristine white beaches are there in the Bermuda Triangle. That was fine until she said that her beaches were better than the grey beaches here in my beloved Mistlands. I responded playfully defensive that her beaches looked fake, like the generic backdrop of a dime-store photo-booth, as if an unimaginative painter with only blue and white had just given up before putting any real character into the canvas. Our beaches have character! So many shades of grey and the constant motion of breakers…things happen on our moody beaches!

What happens on these beaches? Walking along listening to the constant eternal rolling rhythm of the sea frees the mind. Follows the line of water and sand like a path to some indistinct destination frees the mind. Free to wander, where does one wander to?

There’s always been magic in that place where earth and water and air meet, build a fire and you’ve got the four elements represented nicely. Standing there as witness we contribe Flesh, and reaching out into The Whole Big Thing Spirit completes the scene like the trappings of a powerful ritual ready to be worked.

It can be humbling to be in this place surrounded by the grandeur of eternal forces. So often a single small person feels humbled to the point of being lost, swept away in it all.

There are times when that same person in this special place with all the components properly assembled can reach up and out and be swept along into the cosmic Bigness of it all. It’s a ritual without need of incantations, in a temple not built by hands to something bigger than the limited scope of man.

Inspired. Conspiring with the Eternal, riding on a timeless breath, witness to Time unfolding…

…Whatever color your beaches are

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