life echoes words

Looking out at Gravesend Bay soothes in ways I cannot aptly explain. Water is medicine. Ocean water is resurrecting. Its life force is hypnotizing and healing to the soul. I sit on the bench, watching the waves undulate and almost forget that time exists. Moments pass along with the birds that dip head first for fish. The ocean cares very little about the hour glasses, watches and digital hands-of-time we use to tell us when and how to live our lives from day to day. The ocean is free; it doesn’t count the revolutions of the sun and moon. It simply is. There are days when the bay water is almost blinding, shining so bright it’s as though it were glass or polished silver. Ships come and go seeking dock, to unload from their solid metal backs the cargo that traveled from distant waters to bring clothes, sustenance and drink. Coast guard boats, like bodyguards for the famous, sit watching and waiting.

Gravesend Bay. The name gives me pause. I wonder how many have died here for that name to become stamped on maps. Gravesend. How many were sent to their graves on this very soil? How many never left the bottom of the bay? My imagination runs wild, but the fact is, the name has nothing to do with graves. Still, wars have sent many to their graves here.

The bench warms the longer I sit. The water splashes against the slippery green rocks and children make their way up and down the path on tiny bikes and scooters. The sun makes its way across the sky and I make my way back home, across the overpass, the Belt Parkway, cars bumper to bumper as I cross, the Bay now at my back. The water beckons as the world calls me back. I am torn, but continue my walk home.

From my window I stare at the bay waters and dream of other lands.

~ pittershawn written December 3, 2021

I am human and that means I'm sometimes messy, unkind, low vibration, insensitive, lost, biting, unenlightened, angry and overly opinionated; a million miles from "spiritual" when the world beats me down. I can sometimes hate, even as I rein myself in from the objectionable words I use to describe how I feel about politics, racism, capitalism, people, all of it. All. Of. It. I learn through trial and error that hate is a waste of energy, but it still surfaces when people push me to the brink. I am not here to be sweet or ugly, kind or unkind.

I'm here to be me. And sometimes, me can be all kinds of imperfect human. If you never had a sweet image of me, thank you from the bottom of my heart for seeing me flawed and still staying here with me, in this space, so we can be authentically human together.  Ain't this some ride? Let's find an open road and continue riding until the sun sets and rises again to greet us as we live our most authentic and honest lives. This thing we do together, this inhaling and exhaling.

~ zaji @ thezaji.com