From my beachside window I am experiencing my second costal winter in a long time. My body is still remembering a mountain top winter with crunchy leaves and roaring fires. Costal winter is different. There are moments in the day where you think you could have a swim, and then the wet breeze comes up and another layer is added. I miss the crunchy red leaves.
Finding my resonance in land has been a process I am still in. Moving to the coast fit my Canadian-born fantasy of beachside tropical living. Who wouldn't want to live on the beach??? The reality is interesting. Wet ferocious winds. Salty air that feels delicious in your lungs but destroys all metal objects in your house. No trees. I thought that I would find home amongst the sand dunes and the wild waves. I certainly feel freedom when I walk through the elements. But my soul has a different calling.
When cyclonic winds tore through out suburb a few weeks ago, I nearly wept at the loss of trees. There are hardly any to begin with and we lost so many. Less shade, less spiders, less birds, less peace.
So how do we find the place that calls us home?
When I was on my vision quest, I remember bashing through the bush in the rain. getting soaked as I kept going further and further. knowing my spot was out there somewhere. As soon as I found it I knew. right down to my bones I knew that I found the spot that would hold me through my quest. The thought of potentially losing it made me cry and I felt the surge of fighting for what had claimed me.
So when I feel restless in the city by the roaring sea I will remember that feeling, that tree, that holding. I will find the place the resonates with me so deeply my roots will take hold. I trust that as I walk on mother earth, she will let me know when I have found it.