oceansizelove

Today has been nice so far.

I've been wanting to use my weekends for more outdoorsy things. Today my plan was to find some trails on Chuckanaut drive and run / hike a good distance. When I woke up it was raining again, and it's been raining for...a while. The hiking trails I found were a bit sloshy and muddy and scary to even think about running on, so I just stood and looked at the ocean for a good while.

Man.

Looking at the ocean can be a sort of sad experience. My eyes follow that endless horizon, trying to mark the difference between sky and sea, and I'm reminded of how small is my lifeline and suddenly begin to feel insanely lost. I find myself in a state where questions breed - questions that demand answers, and demand to have them now.

I find myself living with two versions of myself.

"There is a me you would not recognize, dear
Call it the shadow of myself"
-otr

This old me - this shadow - is no longer inside my body or even sewn to my heels. She has become detached, but she lingers...at a distance of perhaps about four to five feet above me...hovering, still whispering, but only through shallow, weak breaths. Sometimes she tries to jump back into me and wreak havoc. I'm detoxifying, repelling her and casting her away by being brave enough to face the sadness of the ocean's magnitude against my smiling, wet face - day in, day out.

Leigh Nash wrote a song called Ocean Size Love. It's full of hauntingly beautiful piano riffs and lyrics that are intriguing, but that I've never been able to find any personal meaning to.

"And it might seem much too far to get back to where you are
But it's close enough with an ocean size love
So if you can't reach out to me
Send a sign across the sea and I'll pick it up with an ocean size love"

During this morning's time gazing over the gray, wet sky and sea, I finally found one.

I am satisfied with that.