This moment is so vast from here to there,
horizon not yet swallowing the sun
or releasing the moon till you
let go of your tightly held fists.
The sand slips through anyway.
Breathe, Dear One, breathe.
Feel the tides turn in your belly,
the ocean air in your breath.
Do you hear the sound of seashells
calling you back home to yourself?
Out here you are not deficient
or famous, cruel or kind,
but a wave of pure presence
clearing the slate of false inscriptions
for another possibility.
When you leave Here, please
carry True Nature with you.
At the water’s edge or in the woods, singing or dancing, playing an instrument or painting, meditating or engaging in mindful movement, being reflected by loved ones or reflecting in silence, running or writing, presence is a present you gift yourself to remember True Nature. It’s how we thin the protective armoring, share vulnerability, and begin to see ourselves in each other.