No matter how many lifetimes I have stuffed my pockets with shell fragments and stones,
been struck dumb by the light on the water, listened to the tide, those things are always new.
There is comfort in these rituals, for their consistency. Their details are lost in the wholeness
of the experience.
Inside of those rituals, looking at details that are not necessarily part of a rounder memory
of the shore, that is where I live. Those details are my day at the beach for their evocative
associations, most of which we pass without recognition. They are clues that escort us to places
we have been, things we have seen-without ever having recognized them as part of the experience.
These images are about memory.
My own memories send me, repeatedly to a particular place that exists physically, and in my heart.
So many years of drinking in the light, wearing it, carrying it with me everywhere I go,
letting it rescue me on bad days…
I am grateful.