Morning Walk

A morning walk with my youngest daughter to see the sunrise over the sea. 

The sun only just managed to claw the tiniest of spaces through the clouds as it rose, but the sea is always magic. 

 

Ocean Treasures

There is a peculiar peace in studying the detritus washed up by the sea. 

If the beach is unmarked by any other footsteps but your own, or you walk in the part of sand washed clean of evidence of other feet by the tides efficient sweep, the pieces of sea-smoothed sand, cuttlefish, shells, small pieces of seaweed, look as if they have been laid on a perfect canvas for your private perusal and wonder. 

In general, meditation is not something I excel at. Stray thoughts constantly intrude and the long list of things I need to do jabs at me. 

However, walking the shore it is easy to fall into a type of flow time, where the only thoughts are an awareness of the lull of the surf, the rush and flow of the tide and the way the ever-changing light falls on water, stone, patterns and pieces of the sand and the seaweed. 

Shorelines

 

The places where sea meet land, where fluid laps solid and waves rush, murmur, ripple and roar, the liminal between places, so different from the rest of the sea, so different from the rest of the land, - Shorelines

 The places where magic happens. The place where the edge of the broken wave touches land, forming the changing boundary of the sea, only to be pulled back and replaced by another. 

Shorelines - 

The place where magic happens.

Especially in those moments where day meets night. 

When day meets night, where sea meets land - the in-between place in an in-between time  -  these seem to be the places and times when it is easier to step out of ourselves and just be. 

To step into a flow time where all there is

is the fall of the wave, a slant of light, an ebb, a flow. 

It's easy to wander, meander - but always follow the ever-changing dividing land between sea and land until swallowed by daytime or darkness. 

A place of secrets. Of give and take. 

Where treasures of shell, stone and seaweed are cast up, and dragged away. Where we walk upon the ground remains of countless shells that housed countless little lives, of rocks that endued over millennia. 

Where we walk over time. 

Spiders - my Super-Villain Origin Story

We have been sick for ever and ever. And long-covid has not been fun. But I think... I think I may, just may be getting my brain back. And I am quite excited. 

I have missed it. A lot. 

It appears though, that having lost my brain for awhile, on it's return it is coming back without many filters and with a full complement of obsessions and, well - in full on obsessive crank mode. 

Possibly I have metamorphised into a witch? 

I have always had many obsessions. But I believe (although I could be wrong) that I wasn't particularly interested in other people sharing them. I was perfectly content for them just to be my obsessions. 

But it is presently making me quite upset how under-appreciated spiders are. 

The artistry of their webs! All their different types of webs! The way they protect plants from predators. The way they protect us from mosquitos! The fascinating qualities of their silk! 

And I have come to realise that if I were in a Marvel movie I would be a villain. A super villain they'd all have to fight against to stop the destruction of the world as they know it. 

And I now know that my origin story would be along the lines of: old woman mad at the world that spiders are so unappreciated for all they do and how amazing they are, so takes over all forms of media,  and streams footage of spiders being wondrously clever instead. 

Especially all the sports channels and shows. They would exclusively show spiders and their webs and the glory of said webs - especially all dew covered in the morning and illuminated with early morning sun. 

And I would demand people had conversations about spiders, and their favourite spiders, rather than about sports teams. And everyone would know the different types of spiders and their various different awesomenesses...  And there would be no more of those annoying people putting their selfies all over the place. Instead everyone would post photos of spiders. (Or bugs. Or beatles. Or dragonflys. Dragonflys are SO AMAZING!) 

As you can see, I am having a lot of problems letting the worlds lack of appreciation for spiders go. I don't think I worried about such things in the past? (Honestly, it is hard to properly remember the pre-covid past. There was stuff. And my brain worked. And I could do ... more stuff. And the wording worded. And I don't think I identified quite as strongly with mini-beasts.) 

But I am waking my husband in the night, just to remind him again, about peoples lack of appreciation for spiders' awesomness. He takes it quite well. 

And it's not that I mind super-crank-villain-mode. 

I just don't want it to get me locked up. There is a very strong suspicion of witches in my family. (And by this I mean through deep-dive ancestry tracing, not looking at actual relatives alive today.) 

And I'm afraid my deep devotion to spiders and bats, moths and dragonflys, fungi, ferns and lichen might possibly do it. (Let me not forget caterpillars and damselfly nymphs.And Weeds. True survivors. Iconic, heroic, ruly inspirational in theri resilience, adaptabilit - I could, and will, go on. But later.) 

Swans