Sunday, June 17, 2012

Returning To Shore

It’s that time of year again when I step out of the water to dry off for a few weeks.

And it’s the same (and not the same) every year: feeling reluctant to leave the water, wanting to keep swimming forever in words and stories, making my way slowly back to shore, the ocean's waves clinging to my legs as I rise out of the surf and return to land.

The moment that I step out of the water, though, something mysterious happens. My muscles relax in strange yet familiar ways and I can gaze back over the water and view the distance from last year that I swam to reach the place where I'm standing now.

And I can close my eyes and feel the ocean breeze and smell the salt air and understand why I need to rest, why I need to let my body and imagination sink into the sand and feel the warmth of the sun and simply bathe in air instead of water for a while.

I’m looking forward to spreading out my blanket and reading on the beach.  I always get plenty of sand in the pages of paperbacks, but it never matters. What matters is the book in my hands and the sound of the waves drumming in rhythm to my heart.

It's the pulse of the sea that I love, maybe because it reminds me of the ebb and flow of words that bring our stories to life when we sit down at our desks to write, no matter how long it takes us to find our stories.  They are there, like the sea, waiting for us to dive in.
If your lips are turning purple and your fingers are as wrinkled as mine, you might think about stepping out of the water for a while, too, and give your well of words and stories a chance to fill up again.

If you do find yourself, like me, returning to shore to dry off for a while, here are a few links that you might enjoy:

See you soon!


Sharron said...

I loved this! Thanks so much for sharing in such a delightful, schenic way.

I've been thrown from the sea with illnesses and horrid things, these last months in particular. I am now hoping to dive back in. There was no time for reading on the beach, just physical therapy sessions and medicines that make the stomach churn.

Bless you for such lovely thoughts.

Thomas Derry said...

A great reminder that the pool of our creativity will never run dry, if only we give it a chance to stay full.

Bruce Black said...

I hope you've recovered and have found your way back into the sea to write again. Thanks for your kind words.

Bruce Black said...

And if the pool does run dry (sometimes without warning), it's comforting to know that time (and rest) may help replenish it. Thanks for stopping by.