. . .

“To gather myself I will swim naked

in the wind, bending my blind elbows

in circles, stopping now to dance

like the cherubic gold on the ark,

and gather myself from the particles

of this excitement another structure,

one closely resembling the beginning.”

~ Excerpt from “Self-Portrait,” by Afaa Michael Weaver

All night, door open to the winded waves, surf blowing in the Gulf, and waking into a dark, cold morning. At daylight, dressed in layers, hood, hat, scarf, I walked into the wind over the foamy ski and the shells rolled in of a lovely morning. Some clouds, some blue sky, much happiness and peace as i rambled along the beach, the deserted beach. One lone surfer. Few walkers in the cold. Fifty degrees, I don’t mind, why should I? I climb over the sea wall, turn around and see my shadow on the sunlit, golden wall: self-portrait. She is waving to me from the wet rocks. Now we are very much present, awake, aware. I find a priestess in the sand, made of shell. Out on the pier the wind blows me hard enough I take notice. Caution in the wind. Even the birds have sought shelter this morning. The shell pickers are keeping warm. My feet, wet from surf, are cold as if they were walking in boots wet from snow in the wooded wetlands. I am grateful to be meeting this beginning, and all the particles of my excitement.