Monday, September 19, 2011

Just Me and My Sea


When the heavy of my days begins to weigh me down,
when the layers of gunk pile thick upon my skin,
when the hurry, the miscommunications, the forgetting and the remembering,
when the troubles and the worries and the sorrows and the pains,
when they reach that moment,
yes, you know it, too—
its time.

I reach for my bag, string my arms through its loops, slip my bare feet into my flip flops, and off I go.

What begins as cobblestone turns quickly to dirt. I rise up with the hill, turn a corner to pass a grove of mangoes and then, like a tunnel burrowing its way through a mountain, I enter the jungle. The air is rich, thick, heavy as steam. The glossy greens drip with moisture—ferns and philodendrons, coconut palms and strangler figs. Insects hum, a bird twitters its delicate, tropical tune, and if I am quiet enough, I can hear the breathing of the jungle itself. Soft and gentle, as regular as the tide, it breathes in and out with a deep-sleep innocence, with a careful, conscious peace all its own. My steps slow, my heart warms, even my knees loosen. How did I not know my knees were tight?

And just as my own consciousness begins to rise throughout my body like bubbles from the deep, I hear the distant crashing of the surf. A few more strides, just over the ridge, and there she is, the view with a gift—the scent of the sea.

My eyes soften, my lips smile, my body turns fluid even before I reach her shore. This is right, this is good, this is where I am meant to be. I drop my bag and leave my shoes and sundress in a heap upon the sand. They know I will return. I always do. But different. She comes back different, they like to say.

The water licks at my toes, teasing me, inviting me in to play. I slink in slowly, wanting to enjoy every second, every caress, every tender touch to my hungry body thick with heavy from the weight of my days. But soon, I have walked as far as I can; I am immersed, almost completely submerged, held with the soothing arms of the sea. I dive deep, my long hair tickling my back. It’s just me and my sea.

And afterward when the sun begins to set and my casita calls me home, my body emerges with a lighter step upon the sand. I don’t use my wings. I didn’t leave anything behind. I don’t even remember what it was that once worried me. But it was something, I am sure. Yes, something. I run my fingers up and down my sea happy skin. It’s clean and alive, shiny and smooth, and it breathes with a fresh, unhurried pace, a pace I now remember and reclaim as my own.

And as she looked down
with a clearer eye
and a wiser heart
she couldn't help but see
the butter
the butter
The Butter 
as it puddled at her feet.

21 comments:

  1. It's cold here today, and I'm nestled under down, but I hear the waves. No, not your waves from your beautiful sea but from a little radio-like thing I have in my bedroom that I turn on to sleep to the waves, the tropical rains, a cacophony of jungle birds. Loved this post, Brynne, and love imagining you there, slipping on your flip flops and heading down to the sea!

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  2. I am soO glad you liked it, Tracey. I used to have a cd with jungle/ocean sounds, too. We really are a part of nature, aren't we? If we weren't, it wouldn't feel so good to be immersed in it, no? And when we do immerse ourselves, sometimes it even feels like going home.

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  3. Lovely post, and very relaxing indeed.

    I've nominated you for a Versatile Blogger award. If you'd like to pick it up, you can do over on my blog. :)

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  4. Brynne, I found you through Bella at One Sister's Rant. This post is stunningly beautiful... You described much of what the ocean/sea does for my soul. Gorgeous. Thank you.

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  5. Thank you, Allie! What a happy way to start my Monday, I will be right over! Great to have you here and glad you liked the post. Hope its a great writing week for you!:)

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  6. SOo glad you found me, Hot Coco...because then I got to find you, too!:) And I'm happy you could come along on my visit to the sea. I was missing something, just didn't know it was you:)

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  7. I love this, and glad am I she could remember where she put her dress when she finally came back. Many a pair of shoes I have lost, stashed inside of logs here and there, never to be found again. :)

    Though I am very much puzzled by the end. I don't want to ask you to explain it, because magic words ought to do their own speaking. Yet.. Im puzzled. I'll wait and see what other sea sprites have to say.

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  8. That's funny about losing your shoes, Sara! Maybe the trees hid them from you so you'd come back again and again...

    And the butter bit at the end is the gunk of my days piling up on my skin... fatty, sticky, hard to wash off/let go of...but thankfully melted away by the sea.

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  9. I am always happiest by the beach. Regardless of my mood--the good, the bad, or the very ugly--the presence of the ocean wields its magic on me. I do live in San Francisco, but not on the beach (lottery winner status pending my purchasing of tickets). The smell of the air is enough to keep me rooted, but when I can go no longer I must find my way to the seaside. This post is a like a piece of shore for me today, especially today. I am feeling the ache to walk along the shore. Your words (whether intended or not) find there way inside. Thanks, I needed some crashing waves this morning.

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  10. Huddled here on a cold morning this post washed clean the butter stuck to me - thank you Brynne.

    it seems that if I ever need to be lifted - this is my place to come to...

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  11. Oh, thats what I thought it was. But as real butter is so yummy and delicious I wasnt sure.
    :)
    I feel just that way when I stand on a mountain top with a huge open birds eye view. When the wind whips strong and pushes and pulls me. Filling me up with energy and power.. I can then say, "Butter? Go!" and it does.

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  12. Brynne, the sea has the same effect on me. There's nothing that the mystical body of water can't rid me of--all the way from depression to a migraine. I hand it over the beautiful lady that is the sea, and poof! It's gone. This post was not only beautiful, utterly beautiful, it also served to remind me of my wonderful time spent in the Mediterranean Sea this summer. Suddenly, I forgot about my teeth pain as I was transported to those magical waves and white foam. Thank you for bringing me such a sense of peace, dear Brynne!

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  13. So glad I could help, Brenda. I know what you mean about the ache to walk along the shore. Its one of my favorite things to do in life.:)

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  14. Gosh, Jo, what a beautiful thing to say. I am so glad you find happy here.:)

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  15. That's true, Sara...butter is soo yummy. I love it that you brought this up! I wonder why I intuitively felt it as butter? Maybe it was less about flavor and more about texture. Butter can be really annoying if you're trying to get it off your skin, you know? And the sea melts that annoying feeling for me...:)

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  16. And Sara, p.s. Maybe next time on the mountain top you can ask the wind to melt all your rough edges away? Then you wont giggle when the butter visual suddenly makes you ache for something gooey and buttery when you are millions of miles away from any working oven.:)

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  17. Goodness, Bella...and God knows you needed help keeping your mind off your teeth! Poor girl! SoO glad you were able to find your way back to the Med and to receive even a little credit for an assist is a true honor!

    When I swim in the Med I always think about all the people who came before me who's energies may still linger behind in the molecules of the sea. Do I soak up a little of them every time I swim there? Last time I had a itching to learn more about the Romans, so maybe:) I know you have lots of your own Mediterranean memories...and will make more in summers to come with even better teeth next time, too! I can hardly wait to read about them. YAY!:)

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  18. I love this - I too love the sea - and love nature - and often feel the need to be re-created, revitalised from the stresses and strains of everyday life.
    JoAnna (Helen Clancy)

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  19. So happy you liked it, Helen. It seems many of us need nature in similar ways. Makes it even more comforting, in a way. And perhaps even more beautiful, too. Thanks for stopping by:)

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  20. Sea happy skin... This is lovely. I'm very partial to the sea myself. Don't feel right without the sound of waves in my ear.

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  21. Thanks, Deniz. It feels so nice to know so many of us love and need the sea. I am happy you came by. Your visit gave me a smile.:)

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