Footsteps in the Sand
“Unfurl yourself
Into the grace of beginning
That is at one with your life’s desire.
Awaken your spirit to adventure;
Hold nothing back, learn to find ease in risk;
Soon you will be home in a new rhythm,
For your soul senses the world that awaits you.”
I woke up early to welcome the morning. As summer begins, so many people go to the ocean. I want to see her in her morning nakedness. No footsteps yet. I want to wake up into the day with her as she rises, the first breath of ocean air filling my lungs. The sun caressing my body, the warmth of the early sun when my feet sink into the sand. Looking out on the horizon over the beautiful blue water, hearing her rolling waves as they greet the shoreline. I hear a cacophony of nesting blue heron babies, being fed in the towering eucalyptus trees.
As I take my first footsteps, I hear the tumbled rocks singing as the water flows in and out, continuing to shape them and shift them from their temporary places. Like them, I surrender myself to the currents of impermanence that shapeshift me. The day fades as I watch the sunrise and set across the water, giving way to the moon and stars as dusk deepens into the night sky. The ocean is a voice of surrender for me, constantly reminding me of the raw, untamed, wild nature that I am.
I walk toward a favorite Monterey Pine tree. I have visited her hundreds and hundreds of times. She is perched out on the land’s edge. The land is being eroded by the rising water levels, and she is in jeopardy now. She stands like an elder, wise with her majestic presence. Her trunk is still nestled in the land, but half of her root base is exposed, hanging out over the edge. She still feels strong, like she could stand for another hundred years, but I sense the ocean will claim her before then. I feel sad at the impending loss of her and so grateful to receive her beauty. I offer prayers as I stand in her presence, wondering what she feels. She is a mirror for me, reflecting the ways I feel - naked and exposed. Roots in the air not sure, yet trusting my life force to sustain and grow me, no matter what the conditions. Her shape is bent toward the earth and rises toward the sky. Her needles glisten in the sunlight, a gorgeous pranic green. She gives me hope that all will be well; she comforts my grieving heart.
As I turn to walk back, I see the pathway of my footprints in the sand. Bare feet in the sand, a mark for a moment that says I’ve been here. As I walk, I witness the waves coming up and wash them away with an effortless stroke of indifference. Do I walk to leave my footprints in the sand? Not really, I walk to be in the moment with the ocean and land that I love. Each moment a wise teacher, reminding me of what is enduring.
As I look out into the vastness of the ocean, and the spaciousness of the sky, I see a single duck floating in the water. Many ducks used to just be in the estuary, the brackish waters, the mixed salty and freshwater circulating in and out with the ebb and flow of tides. Since the drought, they have acclimated to chlorine pools and the ocean. It’s odd now to see a duck floating in the turbulence of the ocean. They are usually in calm, still waters. I am like that duck – single with the death of my mate. Acclimating to unknown waters and currents. Circulating in waters that are foreign to me now. Yet, we walked this walk hundreds and hundreds of times, hand in hand. He stood holding my medicine pouch as I offered prayers to our mother waters. We looked through the eyes of our souls, and we reconnected with what lives beyond death, again and again. I had a ceremony there to help him move between worlds. I remember a saying when our loved ones die, “They are nowhere, they are everywhere, and they are here.”
I often find heart-shaped rocks on the sand. I found one today. They always feel like a gift from my beloved, reminding me that he is in my heart as I am in his. They are always misshapen. Not symmetrical, as if to say the heart as it heals takes on a new or different form. It continues to carry the love from the past and surrenders to the impermanence of the tides of the unknown. There is a gentle grace in accepting that we don’t get to know where our footsteps in the sand will lead us.
Post Script - May 23, 2021
Footsteps in the Sand was written in June of 2017. Recently I read this to a group of friends who encouraged me to share this piece on my website in Writings. Today is my beloved’s birthday, and it has been a day of rolling waves of tears, grief, and cherished memories.
During Covid, our global community has been experiencing endless waves of grief. Our courage, resiliency, and compassion for our loved ones, community, and global family have been challenged in ways unseen in our lifetime.
Meeting ourselves, each other, and the unknown requires our surrender and participation with the transitions and transformations that are calling us. We move with these tides of pain and love - fear and courage - birth, death, and rebirth within ourselves, families, and our communities.
May these words, which are as timeless today as they were seven years ago, be a healing balm going out in all directions. May the Holy Ones place a sacred touch on all those who are suffering, grieving, and guiding and supporting others.
Please send this on to support someone you know. May they feel held in what they love and all that loves them. May their pain, disconnection, or loss transform into a remembering of who they truly are and their sacred medicine path.
Sending love, light, and healing blessings in all directions,
deborah