Sunday, April 25, 2010

Letters from the Sea



My time at the ocean is drawing to a close. This will be my last post from my hermitage by the sea. As with most things in life, it's from a distance that the story will  begin to reveal itself. I'm so grateful for the opportunity I've had to see life from a fresh perspective, to listen to the sea, to stay present to each day and what it offered. Large lessons have been learned and I look forward to seeing what will be revealed to me as I move forward.

When I first arrived in Maine, about six weeks ago, I thought perhaps I would stay, explore my life from this new place. As the weeks unfolded, I knew that would not be the case, that my time here was limited. Last summer, while still living in Santa Fe, I returned home to Minnesota for a visit. Shortly after arriving, I knew, with a deep inner knowing, that I was to return to Minnesota, the land of my childhood. I was to put down roots and make a life there. But, before I could do that, I apparently had unfinished business I needed to attend to. Unfinished business with myself. I needed to gain a greater sense of peace, to discover my center, to learn to put my whole self in my life; riding fences would no longer cut it. It simply wouldn't be allowed. I had to move forward on a sure basis. I cannot imagine having a more perfect place from which to do this.

I'm going to miss falling asleep to the sound of the waves against the shore, and the train, the Downeaster, passing through, just a couple of blocks away. Waking up to the sun glinting off the water, brewing morning coffee, then sitting down to write at the kitchen window that overlooks the ocean. Nothing but sky and ocean for thousands of miles.

It's been wonderful.

But, I've been getting that prompting, that inner knowing, that it's time to return to Minnesota. I'm anxious to get my hands in the earth, to garden, to plant flowers, to find a chunk of land and carve out a life, a more self-reliant life, that speaks to my truest self. Perhaps something akin to my farmhouse in Ansel but smaller, more efficient. A New Ansel. That sounds good. Very good. We shall see what unfolds.

I mentioned to several people, and in my writing have alluded to it, that I felt the presence of my mother here at the ocean. My niece, Tanya, surprised me with a phone call just as I walked onto the beach one day. She said,  "I have always felt that Grandma went to the ocean when she passed."  Mom loved being near the water. She visited the east coast right after high school. There's a photo of her standing alongside a railing on the Atlantic City boardwalk. I have no doubt that I've had her loving support during this odyssey. It did not seem at all odd that Tanya would affirm this for me. She often has very strong intuitive thoughts.

While walking on the beach a couple of weeks ago, I saw two words written in the sand. You might recall my previous post in which I found letters in the sand spelling "Love is Beautiful," just down the beach a ways, and posted a photo of it. This time, I stopped to read, but was too preoccupied to pay full attention. It was not until an hour or so later that I knew I had to go back down and see if the letters were still there. I wanted to photograph them. They were large letters, so I wouldn't miss them. They were there. It took two photos. These were the two words:















15 comments:

  1. That just blew me away!!! Have a safe journey home, my friend.

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  2. Quite a sign. Your journey stirred some deep emotions in you. I thought for awhile you would not be returning to Minnesota, but you know where your heart is. Travel safely. -Jack

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  3. What a nice farewell for you, right there where you would see it and know what it meant.
    Have a safe trip home.

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  4. Oh, wow! Chills!! Your mom wanted you to see that. *hugs*

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  5. Thank you all. It's been wonderful, truly. How could it be otherwise? A beautiful place to work through those "deep emotions." I'm already looking forward to what awaits me... I Know it's gonna be good. : ) I am so blessed to have you all as friends.

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  6. That is so wonderful and so awesome. :)

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  7. I think so, too, Kathy! I'm just now starting to understand and feel the full impact of it.

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  8. Serious chills, Teresa... How beautiful.

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  9. Oh, Teresa, that is so profound. I can absolutely relate to you through this post, having had a similar experience. I think it's exciting, actually. This trip will be a nice memory as you're settling into your new life "back home." Dig in the dirt...plant a new life. It will be good.

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  10. Kristy, Thank you : )

    Cheryl, Yes, planting a new life. Your words mean a lot to me. Thank you.

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  11. This entry was such a treasure to read! As you have learned over the years, there are messages and signs all around in our world. They are just waiting for us to find them, if we only listen and watch for them. I am happy for you in that you have learned so well how to listen and see, as evidenced by the message you went back to get............. a treasure inscribed in the sand........Miss you Grandma....can't wait to hear your voice again someday....
    Miss you too and looking forward to seeing you in July....in MN!

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  12. See you in July! I'm enjoying your baby portraits. Beautiful work!

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  13. Teresa ... you exalt beauty and therefore beauty is exaled in you. Your mon and dad did real good, honey, and I thank them ...

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