I finished my walk on the beach this morning, popped over to the farmers market and bought my weekly dose of fragrant white ginger stems. oh, and some of the apple bananas I like.

I returned to the beach as usual and grabbed my notebook…
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There’s magic on this beach for me…

Last December I found my soul on this beach. I asked. It was given.

This beach has become sanctuary for me. It is here I greet the sun and quiet my mind with the rhythmic pounding of the waves. I ask. It is given.

This beach is also the familiar for me…

I’m starting to notice, or at least pull together some the little things I’ve taken in over the past 2 months. I’m feeling a little less overwhelmed.
We often don’t really see our surroundings…I know I don’t…I get caught up…autopilot in the familiar.

I’ve noticed how the sand ledge where I meditate has slowly shifted north about 50m. I shift with it.

I know where the sand is silky smooth, fine and white. I know where it grades or changes to coarse, tan and is infused with bigger bits of shell.

Watching the ebb and flow of the tides, I know where the beach is long and shallow under the roiling water.

I know where she, the mother, spits but of coral, small intact shells and smooth tumbled glass in green and brown. And I know where she gifts the fishing floats when I ask…

I’m starting to adjust the clock in my head and I am better able to tell time relative to the horizon and the sun’s path.

I can see winter coming with the amount of litter deposited on the beach, pushed up from an ever swelling ocean. It has a pregnant feeling.

I can tell if I’ll be caught in the driving rain and where it will likely occur on my trek up the beach. I know which ironwood trees offer the shelter I need as a temporary refuge.

I know where the tire swing hangs.

I feel like I’m dialing it in a bit…becoming intimate with a small part of my world. It feels good.

I saw 5 large Frigate birds soaring overhead here last week. That was when she told me there are spirits and magic on this beach.

I believe her.

I feel it.