The ocean makes us FEEL LIKE GODDESSES
Standing in sweet solitude above the cold surf of September. I had just emerged from its steely blue - an plunge spawned by equal measures of courage and curiosity.
Water barely 60 degrees, but the air hovering near 90 at 3pm. An oddity for the first week of fall in the upper Atlantic, but a blessing nonetheless.
I prefer to be at the beach alone. Personal company, while sweet and fun, gets in the way of me noticing. And I live to notice. I like to take in the full orchestra of senses; the tide's rhythmic thunder, the silkiness of half-wet sand that I massage into my soles, the wafts of sometimes salty sometimes sour air, the sky's dazzling cloudlessness (reminding me that there are literally no obstacles between me and the stars), and -if I find adequate stillness- the awkward marching of gulls about me, like I'm extra driftwood.
It's all just magical. It's all just right. And it makes me feel all-at-once beautiful and safe and vulnerable and victorious...
like the Winged Victory of Samothrace standing poised over the sea.