I think the answers are at the mouth of that river. I don't mean retreat there, I mean in the apparent chaos there. That brackish mixture is always churning, appears destructive, IS destructive to some, whatever fleeting images of beauty or comfort that appear also just as surely fade, but
We aren't sad when the sun goes down. We prepare for the night and know that the hardships of darkness and cold will be relieved at dawn, and there will be a new world then, maybe not solving all of our problems, but there will be light and warmth again someday, the world is cyclical, it oscillates, right down to the very elemental particles of existence. Love is a field that envelopes us all until we try to find it, then it collapses down into a single point that has to be located, until we release that search.
I haven't got any idea what's going to happen. I know people are going to be hurt just as surely as errant salt-water creatures are harmed by fresh waters (and vice versa) when they take a wrong turn up the river. Some fish is going to find itself on your husband's hook, but someone else is going to eat. That's the world I see around me.
I am not surprised by any of this, but I am shocked. It is important to know that difference. Surprise is something happening one didn't expect. Shock is a physiological reaction to a threat. One can be shocked by something that was no surprise.
You are the good in the world, so am I, and so is your husband as he pulled that lever in that booth. We won't know if the shed held up through the storm until the morning, but we do know that will be able to see a little better then. Stay warm, those sweaters are sexy.
What a beautiful response and then that last sentence made me laugh! Yes to everything. The other part about these brackish waters is that the sea life becomes extremely vulnerable here, as you point out. So I look to the tides. They are always ebbing and flowing, as you say. Gorgeous prose, thank you so much for this beautiful comment!
I love that! Thank you for this. I've reflecting on the power of silence lately, writing the chapter(s) in my memoir where I lived with the Bay Islanders and theirs was a culture of silence. They spoke, but infrequently. More listening that anything. And it was... powerful. Transformative. This puts language to that, thank you.
This is a beautiful metaphor, Summer. I really don’t know what to think about our current reality. I feel suffering brewing in my bones. Maybe that’s my purpose here. To bear witness to the incoming suffering and to carry it for others when it’s possible to do so. Maybe this is some sort of cosmic reminder that what matters most is collaboration, compassion, and caring for others. I’m here for it. ❤️
I hear and feel this! I often believe that my ability to feel the suffering of others is my way of alleviating their suffering, if just for a moment. The root of compassion means "to suffer with." We can help them hold it. <3
This is a long game we are going to be playing. Slow and steady movement together. Patience, I remind myself, is one of our greatest assets. Wait the assholes out while we gather our resources together to share, and get to work under the surface.
I grew up playing on Eagle Beach as a kid, and on the rare occasion that I return, I visit there. It is impossibly beautiful, vast. And at the same time brutal and rough. Love your writing, Summer. I could feel that place in my memory. Keep up the great work. Agree community is the answer. Maybe that's the good that will come out of these next four years--People return to building community out of necessity...A silver lining? One can hope.
Exactly. I was going over old posts and one from 2021 read, "How about instead of new year's resolutions we mention one thing we learned? Mine was that from something bad, something better always comes." This was during the height of the pandemic and remote learning, too, an incredibly hard experience for me and so many others. So yes. Here's to silver linings and hope!
Also, thank you for your comment. And isn't Eagle Beach so amazing? I love that you grew up playing there as a kid!
Lately, in the darkness and uncertainty, a theme is glowing. Light. A little light can let us see in the dark. The meeting of a river and a sea brings about a murkiness. It’s hard to see, but with light, the swirls are clearer, perhaps easier to navigate. So little old me, is trying to send a little bit of light. I am trying not to weigh in too heavily on other humans. I can’t solve the massive problems of this Earth, nation, state. But I can send lightness and glow into my area. It might be a nod, a smile, a donation, a little elbow grease, or a little pray. I just hope it will add a little light. 🕯️✨
Beautiful writing Summer. You really do have a gift. What gives me a sliver of sun in the black cloak of oppression - is the hope that opposing factions will recognize everyone has the same needs - and that if we stand together we are strong. Clean air, water, shelter, food, healthcare, etc.- and a planet with abundant resources is at stake. The message is clear-the powerful want to divide us and create chaos so they can take it all. They could give a shit about the average human. We can flip the tables if we remember to practice compassion and approach conversations from a place of unity and what we stand to lose - or gain-together.
Thank you for the Alaska breath in, breath out, Summer. Thank you for the reminder that we are in a time of great resilience — the greatest diversity is where distinct ecosystems meet. Thank you for reaching out. Life in Texas is often…entertaining for me.
I love the photos, Summer. They are meditation shots for busy minds. Perfect morning wake-up material. I visited Eagle Beach vicariously via Google to find it. Alaska is on my bucket list ... but it's a big ask from New Zealand.
I think the answers are at the mouth of that river. I don't mean retreat there, I mean in the apparent chaos there. That brackish mixture is always churning, appears destructive, IS destructive to some, whatever fleeting images of beauty or comfort that appear also just as surely fade, but
We aren't sad when the sun goes down. We prepare for the night and know that the hardships of darkness and cold will be relieved at dawn, and there will be a new world then, maybe not solving all of our problems, but there will be light and warmth again someday, the world is cyclical, it oscillates, right down to the very elemental particles of existence. Love is a field that envelopes us all until we try to find it, then it collapses down into a single point that has to be located, until we release that search.
I haven't got any idea what's going to happen. I know people are going to be hurt just as surely as errant salt-water creatures are harmed by fresh waters (and vice versa) when they take a wrong turn up the river. Some fish is going to find itself on your husband's hook, but someone else is going to eat. That's the world I see around me.
I am not surprised by any of this, but I am shocked. It is important to know that difference. Surprise is something happening one didn't expect. Shock is a physiological reaction to a threat. One can be shocked by something that was no surprise.
You are the good in the world, so am I, and so is your husband as he pulled that lever in that booth. We won't know if the shed held up through the storm until the morning, but we do know that will be able to see a little better then. Stay warm, those sweaters are sexy.
What a beautiful response and then that last sentence made me laugh! Yes to everything. The other part about these brackish waters is that the sea life becomes extremely vulnerable here, as you point out. So I look to the tides. They are always ebbing and flowing, as you say. Gorgeous prose, thank you so much for this beautiful comment!
"In the attitude of silence, the soul finds the path in a clearer light, and what is elusive and deceptive resolves into crystal clearness." - Gandhi.
Silence isn't the absence of noise - it's a presence!
Hugs! 🤗
I love that! Thank you for this. I've reflecting on the power of silence lately, writing the chapter(s) in my memoir where I lived with the Bay Islanders and theirs was a culture of silence. They spoke, but infrequently. More listening that anything. And it was... powerful. Transformative. This puts language to that, thank you.
In the words of Mr. Roger’s, “when you hear scary things in the news, look for the helpers.”
100%! And become one if you can. But "that what is given attention, grows," so even the looking makes it grow!
This is a beautiful metaphor, Summer. I really don’t know what to think about our current reality. I feel suffering brewing in my bones. Maybe that’s my purpose here. To bear witness to the incoming suffering and to carry it for others when it’s possible to do so. Maybe this is some sort of cosmic reminder that what matters most is collaboration, compassion, and caring for others. I’m here for it. ❤️
I hear and feel this! I often believe that my ability to feel the suffering of others is my way of alleviating their suffering, if just for a moment. The root of compassion means "to suffer with." We can help them hold it. <3
"When the wind starts to blow, that’s the first sign that the tide is turning." I am going to tack this up on my wall.
YES!
This is a long game we are going to be playing. Slow and steady movement together. Patience, I remind myself, is one of our greatest assets. Wait the assholes out while we gather our resources together to share, and get to work under the surface.
❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️
So loved your delicious opening and hoped somehow your river would not collide with today's reality. Wonderful writing
Haha! And thank you, Trish!!!!
I loved this. So eloquent and kind.
Thank you, Victoria! 💕
Beautiful, Thank you Summer
Thank you, Heather!
I grew up playing on Eagle Beach as a kid, and on the rare occasion that I return, I visit there. It is impossibly beautiful, vast. And at the same time brutal and rough. Love your writing, Summer. I could feel that place in my memory. Keep up the great work. Agree community is the answer. Maybe that's the good that will come out of these next four years--People return to building community out of necessity...A silver lining? One can hope.
Exactly. I was going over old posts and one from 2021 read, "How about instead of new year's resolutions we mention one thing we learned? Mine was that from something bad, something better always comes." This was during the height of the pandemic and remote learning, too, an incredibly hard experience for me and so many others. So yes. Here's to silver linings and hope!
Also, thank you for your comment. And isn't Eagle Beach so amazing? I love that you grew up playing there as a kid!
Lately, in the darkness and uncertainty, a theme is glowing. Light. A little light can let us see in the dark. The meeting of a river and a sea brings about a murkiness. It’s hard to see, but with light, the swirls are clearer, perhaps easier to navigate. So little old me, is trying to send a little bit of light. I am trying not to weigh in too heavily on other humans. I can’t solve the massive problems of this Earth, nation, state. But I can send lightness and glow into my area. It might be a nod, a smile, a donation, a little elbow grease, or a little pray. I just hope it will add a little light. 🕯️✨
Beautiful writing Summer. You really do have a gift. What gives me a sliver of sun in the black cloak of oppression - is the hope that opposing factions will recognize everyone has the same needs - and that if we stand together we are strong. Clean air, water, shelter, food, healthcare, etc.- and a planet with abundant resources is at stake. The message is clear-the powerful want to divide us and create chaos so they can take it all. They could give a shit about the average human. We can flip the tables if we remember to practice compassion and approach conversations from a place of unity and what we stand to lose - or gain-together.
Thank you for the Alaska breath in, breath out, Summer. Thank you for the reminder that we are in a time of great resilience — the greatest diversity is where distinct ecosystems meet. Thank you for reaching out. Life in Texas is often…entertaining for me.
I love the photos, Summer. They are meditation shots for busy minds. Perfect morning wake-up material. I visited Eagle Beach vicariously via Google to find it. Alaska is on my bucket list ... but it's a big ask from New Zealand.