Freestyle Friday: The Open Trail

Went to the beach today
and walked the Head, with Mac,
In what feels like the first time in forever.

This used to be our almost daily walk,
my moving meditation
home to my “therapist” bench,
where I’d sit,
sometimes for hours,
staring, talking to the ocean, crying, beaming, speaking all my thanks,
telling it stories like I would a friend who knows the answer,
supportive, loving, full of hope and lessons, every time.

They closed the trail, when this whole thing started,
and so I hadn’t tried to walk it in a while.
Until it called today; to my surprise, I found it open.
And took the sweaty steps,
full of excitement
to my consoling bench,
to tell the ocean all that had transpired since we met last
and talked until I felt at peace.

Though once I got there,
there was an odd feeling that sank in,
not a bad one, not a bad one at all.
I used to feel like I’d arrived only when I sat down, ready to open the channels and connect,
as if the entire rest of the time the line was busy, or disconnected.

Though that is not what I had found today. Sitting down,
there was no new feeling that set in,
no “I arrived, now I can be here”
because I realized I had been linked in, the entire time.
The solitude, the silence, the loud crickets out my window,
the reading time and sunning breaks on my insanely tiny patio,
the daily walks by neighbor’s blooming lilacs and wisterias,
the morning runs, seeing them in a different light,
the barefoot walk in a friend’s garden through the sprinklers
and the first strawberries the farmer’s market proudly shared - had all kept the connection wide, wide open.

Nature had seeped into more moments than before,
and not just time, but actual, real presence,
true being there as if a minute later,
I might not get to smell the grass and air again, cooped up inside.

And even when I did, eventually later,
return to my small home, I felt it there.
That knowing that not only am I filling up to all my edges,
with every time my bare feet touch the ground,
and lungs load up on salty, coastal air,
but that connection is not just temporary,
it’s part of me, I’m part of it with every breath.

And indoor isolation couldn’t make it weaker,
yet it enforced each encounter even more,
to where I know now, it’s not something outside me,
but nature is just part of all I am.