Before I could walk I could swim.
True story.
I famously jumped into a hotel pool for a swim, fully clothed and on the way to dinner, when I was less than 2 years old.
My Dad had to jump in and fish me out.
I’m at ease in the depths, but it’s the shoreline that intrigues me.
One of my favorite things to do as a kid was sit in the sand right at the edge of the surf.
I’d let the waves crash around me, which was cool.
But it was the ebb that held the most sensation.
You’ve probably done this, too.
The water empties back into the sea with such force that it pulls the sand right out from under your tush.
You can feel the ground below you disappearing grain by grain.
When that wave finally recedes, you’re like 2 inches lower than when you began.
I’d sit like that wave after wave, loving the feeling of the ground disappearing beneath me.
But as an adult, not so much (metaphorically speaking).
Give me all the ground.
Ground for days.
If I feel the slightest slip of gained-ground, the slightest tickle of receding sand, I tend to freak out.
I’m inclined to cling; keep what I got.
Take for example, this pandemic.
I lost a lot of ground as a business owner.
Yes, of course there were piles of serendipities and innovations.
But oof, what I lost.
It can bring a tear to my eye.
And yet.
I love the sensation of the sand receding as I sit in the surf.
I also love the sensation of the light waning for the year.
I pause to catch the quiet throb of sap migrating down to the roots of the trees.
I’m not actually all the mad about ebb, when I think about it.
Yeah, some things left and pulled the ground out from under me.
But I mean, is the “reality” that grounds us all that stable in the first place?
Nope.
It’s ever shifting.
All that sand that we call “the beach” is in constant motion, waves pulling it away and returning it all damn day.
The wave always returns, bringing “ground” with it.
It’s true that I let go of doing in person classes and rituals.
But I gained a serious Zoom skillset and have been able to circle with people all over the world.
I miss holding hands and anointing.
But I now get to circle with people I would have never met without the internet.
So here’s to the ebb.
Here’s to letting what needs to go, go.
And here’s to flow.
Letting what needs to arrive, arrive.
May we trust the timing.
May the sensations of both delight us.
love & threshold prep,
kv
