practice

I awoke in the morning to a dog snout in my eye. I grumpily rolled over and looked at the clock: 8:25, it said. "you have a tea date at 9," my calendar said. I put the pillow on my head. The phone rang. It was the tea. "I was thinking, it's so nice out, why don't we head out to the ocean for a walk?"

it was nice out, I finally noticed. And I'd been thinking a lot about the ocean, and it felt absolutely right to go face her while her foot kicked back at the gulf 2000 miles away.

Kathy and I drove her (nameless!) vw bus through the sunstreamed redwoods and gold hillsides to point reyes, past the napping holsteins and to the car park for McClure's beach. The whole drive we talked about prayers we'd said to Rita, and how we knew that these events were calling to all of us to take more time to honor what gifts we take for granted, from the Earth, from the universe, from each other.

We walked the narrow path guiding the gap between two tall orange and grey sandstone cliffs to the water 300 yards below. A sparkling stream galloped beside us, green, and singing. The path opened up on to a rippled beach with the blue blue ocean crashing in the cradled cove before us. Rocks stood strong in their wake, and starfish clung expertly along their backsides. My whole body tingled. My shoes came off, and I joined up with all the other tiny specks of the universe, fully embracing my own timelessness, while simultaneously engaging in this rare and perfect series of moments with a woman I barely knew. Rocks pierced pressure points on our feet, dried jelly fish and sea palms littered our way, and it was 4 hours before we darted across the scalding black sand to the trail back up to the land.

we loaded up and started back the way we came, only this time, the road showed us tule elk strolling the hillside, and then abbott's lagoon transformed into sapphires and emeralds. the sparkle was so intense that Kathy jerked the wheel to the right and stopped. "do you see that?" she asked. I nodded. This was not the sun on the water. Every particle that composed our view was vibrating, from the lagoon, to the green water plants, to the dark brown dried grasses just 40 feet in front of us. Two birds circled above and dove into the scene. They remained intact, firm and solid, while the land just glimmered. Two rabbits hopped down the hill towards the water--they, too, remained flat and solid, while everything coming from that piece of earth just waved in and out of place. I could feel my cells trying to match the rhythm, and I held my arms across my chest, wondering if I might melt into it all. I didn't.

we watched, we cried, and we let the magic be.

Ten minutes later, Kathy looked at me and said, "you missed your yoga class."
maybe, but then, maybe not.