This morning on the beach in Aquinnah – the fierce face of the sea mother.  I could hear her roaring when I woke up, and could not wait to see her wild self.  Jacob, my autistic godson, felt her too.  All day he was turbulent, changing, moving.  It felt like there was no real trough in which to settle – all crests and foam.

I am feeling stormy some days as well, but more and more I am finding the depths, the sea floor stillness in myself.  I like to think about that – the fury above, and the holding quiet far below.

Mary Oliver always has a way to see.

I Go Down to the Shore

I go down to the shore in the morning
and depending on the hour the waves
are rolling in or moving out,
and I say, oh, I am miserable,
what shall—
what should I do? And the sea says
in its lovely voice:
Excuse me, I have work to do.