It all started with a craving for the Sea

Ask me what I did this weekend.

Go on: ask.


I'll tell you even if you don't ask, because it's my blog and I get to write what I want.

Short version of the story: I followed an impulse and ended up in San Francisco, on a beach, in the arms of the one-and-only Zak Landrum.

Long version: I learned all over again what it is to feel yourself so poured out, so poured into, that any question may be asked and the answer freely given; any task may be proposed and the completion eagerly fulfilled; any dream may be shared and the hope willingly infuses the entire air so all you both breathe is Light and all you feel is Belonging.

Mmm.

Ask me what I did this weekend. Sunday morning I woke up in my bed on a mountain. By eight I was at church in Merced. And an hour after church I was nose-to-nose with my dear Friend--with my cherished Heart.

----

(photos all by Zak :) )

I prefer the ocean over the forest, over the mountain, over the plain, over the desert, because the Ocean is old without being ancient, it's young without naivety, and it's friendly without being invasive. Every wave feels new, no matter how many times I've seen the crash of white foam on the rocks, or smelled the salt as it seeped up the shoreline and across my skin. The ocean feels--is--endless. The ocean breathes eternity and I sing back Rest into its quiet expanse.