On the ferry ride back, the waters were rough and turbulent. I kept looking for the center of the sea that Pablo Neruda wrote of. Where do the waves begin? I see there is no beginning. They just are, arising and sinking, sometimes disturbed by the passage of a boat, or whale. Life is like that. It just is, and waves may arise, and again, I see it is how we float over or with them.
I feel, too, how clearly our ancestors are with us. I see why native peoples are so caring of them, and honoring. I think our ancestors learn through us, and we through them. They guide us through the lessons they now see, and see the learning carried out through us on earth.
I dreamed I was walking into the ocean. The hugest wave was about to break on me. I lay down flat on the sand, and waited for it to pound over me, but there was no pound. In my surrender to what was to come, there was nothing there, but air. I picked myself up and looked around and continued with my day. In the dream, I, then, began preparing for Christmas. I love the magic and sharing of Christmas. May that be with each of us today, Christmas spirit, the innocent clause of joy.
Between my junior and senior year of high school, I attended a summer program at UCSB. We had a Christmas in July party and exchanged gifts. One student's father had died in an accident, so that put a damper on the celebration. I could not know then, that three years later, the same thing would happen to me. Perhaps, it helped prepare me though, as I shared her grief. Perhaps, it was a little wave, and then, the big one came. Today, I am the sea.
I see how I have learned to better float with and absorb the waves. Perhaps, now, I even ride some of them, and, other times, I sink under. May our day be soft with waves. It is gray here. There was heavy thunder yesterday. The weather is still unsettled. I'll ride without judgment what comes. I am the jellyfish, for today, a float in the sea, that is me.