I built a fire and watched the tide come in…
I slept 10 hours last night and woke up only once and looked over the door so I could remember where I was. I dreamt of all things, and nothings, and when I woke up I couldn’t remember one. I felt sad, I felt joy…but mostly, I just felt…and so I built a fire.
And watched the tide come in.
I walked over to the windows and placed my hands on the cool glass.
I zipped a loose hoodie up halfway, and walked outside. I remembered the only thing between me and the wall of glass, was me. And so I walked outside. I could see my breath, and the cool air felt so much warmer than the warm air I am used to, if that makes any sense. And so I zipped my hoodie completely off and lifted my arms up, my full expression, as lived, across 50 degrees of fresh air, the sweet roar of the ocean, and my two small feet on the cool wet grass.
And walked back inside.
Where the fire is.
I made coffee, and sliced a mango. Humbled at the views life has given me, proud of the views I have sought, sad at the views that are no longer, and so so hopeful and certain of the views that will be.
Having lived here for just a bit longer than a year here in California, it was this, a life anniversary of sorts, to come and remember.
That the tide comes in again and again.
And how uncertain the rest is. And thank god.
You can build a fire with your own two hands. If that’s what you choose to do.
I walked down to the ocean this morning, and a young man was pulling a wetsuit up over his torso, and stood on his tip-toes to lower a kayak down from the roof of his car. The way he moved you could tell this was not new, this was tradition.
He smiled over at me with kind eyes, and I asked him what he was doing.
He said that he was at work, and he pointed out past the fog. ‘Out there’ he said, ‘I’ll meet the other guys and we’ll be pulling up oysters’ he pointed to his net. ‘like that’ he said, and gestured what it would be like, which included a ‘pulling up oysters’ face, which looked a lot like my face when I’m doing cross-fit. His sweet nature and explanation had me believing hell, I could get in a kayak and go pull up some oysters. And I made a point to remember this for my own leadership. I walked back up to the bluff where I slept 10 sweet hours last night, to place more wood on the fire.
And watch the tide retreat.
I’ll do some yoga, maybe.
I’ll talk to some strangers, and look at their faces for signs of kindness and a life well lived.
I’ll try harder to make those smile who do not look as kind or have trouble looking me in the eye.
I’ll get a Cadbury egg from the small store down the street, and make bacon and eggs.
I’ll say very little today. Call my mom and dad. And that’s about it. Send a message to those I love so very much, because a moment like this, with a view like mine, with a prayer so loud…that everyone will know this.
Their own version of fire and the tide.
As everyone deserves that.
And if there is something I know I am good at, I know it’s celebrating what you love the most, and supporting you in getting there.
What is your fire?
What is your tide?
What humbles you to your knees and opens your hands for gratitude, to receive and give, and flow.
For me, it an unexpected, mostly unplanned, trip with a view. An uninhibited ‘book-it’ click because it just ‘feels right’ — the hope and knowing what it will feel like to grow these types of views with partnership, and babes, and more than one moose. And as I look out to this landscape that it’s about remembering what I do have, not what I don’t. It’s remembering who I am, not who I am not. That its searching for the kindness in everyone….that begins by believing everyone is kind.
And maybe it’s getting in the car and driving 6 hours up the coast, and letting go of explaining why I must.
I’ll leave that for the fire….and the tide. And the sweet relief in the moments of letting go needing to live a life I can explain, and instead leading the one I am in. With this view. And every view I have ever seen that leaves me in my full expression.
I still have fear of course, that I wont get it right. That a woman seeking a view, may be sacraficing one of home, but then I remember that that is limited. And that having it all is in getting so super clear on what ‘all’ looks like, and attracting that in. And so I embrace the wild freedom of jumping into my car and heading north. Of getting on a plane, and traveling 8000 miles. Of all the beautiful people I meet along the way. And in this morning remembering and honoring this past year…and how it took me exactly here.
To this view.