dear sojourners,
an atmospheric river as class five rapid surged me to the north oregon Coast for my annual winter retreat monday. scary drive over the Coast Range. hydroplaned. whoosh. no cars around me as i fishtailed. roadway as River. car as Fish. relieved to be continuing downstream and not suddenly upstream. slowed down further. heart thumping. thumping. tense shoulders relaxing after what feels like hours (it wasn’t,) pulling into a parking slot of the sweet lodge where i typically stay, i took a few moments to offer gratitude for safe arrival. Rain morse-coded a response on the rooftop :: w.e.l.c.o.m.e b.a.c.k.
“welcome back” said Karen when i check in. high Water created a mini-Lake in front of the room i had reserved. i get an upgrade to a nicer room. no additional charge. i return to this historic lodge year-after-year for the kitchens, the simplicity, the kindness of staff. also cost, though that has risen like everything else these days. plus needed upgrades—old buildings. the ritual of this retreat may need to shift, but that doesn’t need to concern me the next few days.
i unpack. stow four days of meals in the fridge. Sun will dip below the horizon soon, though there is no visible Sun sighting this day. still, i want to take that first walk. need to take that first walk. i don my Rain gear and head out. the lodge does not offer a Beach view, situated closer to an Estuary. i am fine with that.
to reach Ocean, first i walk along Ecola Creek to where Creek meets the Pacific. an Ecotone. Western Gulls often gather where the two converge. convergence. my body, heart, spirit in this place of be(longing.) always honor and respect Ocean. winter Storms. last week was Full Moon. King Tides. nestled by some stairs that give walkers access to shops is a partially decomposing Seal. my assumption is one of the recent Storms heaved Seal there. big. heavy. the power of Water and Wind. reminds me: never underestimate Ocean.
Wind hurls Rain with needle-like precision against my skin. my clothes. memory from when i used to sew, foot to the peddle. fastfastfast. i taste Salt. i am being brined. initiated as a creature of the Sea once again. Ocean roils. unpredictable. Tide incoming. i take the stairs up away from Sand. walk the path on higher ground. Light is shifting. it’s time to nestle in for the night.
morning. Wind has calmed to whisper. to held breath. Rain to Mist to nothing. Storm has sculptured new undulations. Logs, tangles of Sea Grass, human litter are scattered on Sand, at first looking like trash after a riotous concert, but upon closer viewing one can see a pattern, the curve of Tide’s constant ebb and flow. reminds me of something i read recently: that we are constantly in transition, even when it feels like we are in a holding pattern.
micro transitions. macro. still movement. still::movement. is that a contradiction? can i be still and still be moving? in reading Francis Weller’s In The Absence of the Ordinary, Soul Work for Times of Uncertainty (mentioned in my September post) and recently taking part in The Emergent Network’s Becoming Sanktauree, where space was made to ask “what is apprenticing me?”, slowness (companion of stillness) once again comes to the fore. (i wrote about this recently in my Nurture Your Journey Autumn Newsletter: Apprenticing with Slowness.) this is not a new “ask” for me, but it seems more imperative as i discern “what is next.” a sense that life is shifting. honestly, some days i feel i am moving so slow, even my long winter shadow is impatient for me to hurry up.
so i arrive at a stormy winter Coast not seeking answers but open to listening, tasting, smelling, feeling, being. and as is Death’s way, it always finds me here. perhaps to remind me of my own eventual death. or that something in my life needs to be let go. partially decomposed Gull. Seal. my ritual is to offer gratitude for their lives. for their return to Sea. remnants of Trees strewn along the shore. they hold stories i have yet to be told (i have asked.) and then there are the Rocks…and those ancient Monoliths (very much alive) that rise up along the north oregon Coast. in our human way of needing to name, we have called the one that attracts tourists “Haystack Rock” and two smaller ones “The Needles.” to me “the Needles” are “Guardians.”
soon after my mother died when i began to regularly retreat down here, i stopped in front of these two ancient souls and felt a shift. a connection. a need to listen deep. have you ever experienced this type of connection with a non-human Being? they are one of my anchors in uncertainty: personal or global. these Beings have been around far longer than my puny human self. they speak the language of Water, Fire, Air, Earth. Quantum language. i don’t need to “get the lesson.” i don’t need to figure out anything. i just need to be. i find myself humming then singing to them. it is what i have to offer.
the days fold one into the other. Wind and Rain return. that River from “the atmosphere.” i take a morning walk. perhaps a late afternoon walk. notice shifts in Light. in Seascape. try to quiet my busy mind. Seal is removed by humans. i wonder where they take Seal. do they do an autopsy to see why Seal died? do they bury Seal with other large mammals that have washed up on the Beach in a special cemetery? does anyone say a few sacred words? is Seal cremated and ashes scattered in the Wind?
i spend slow time in my room reading, journaling, reflecting. trying to not be impatient with uncertainty. honestly, sometimes i bore myself with all this slowness. i brought two library books (wouldn’t you know they arrive at the same time!) one, Theory of Water, Nishnaabe Maps to the Time Ahead by Leanne Betasamosake Simpson has me looking at “world making” and Water in new, deeper ways. curiosity stirring. these words about Water seem fitting as Water streams from my body when i step outside:
“Water that i breathe in becomes a constituent that makes up most of my body. Water I breathe out becomes part of someone else’s body. Water travels the world over, moving easily through land, air, soil, rock and bodies. To say it in another way Nibi (Nibi (Water) as a mapping of life and affiliation and global connection-pg 5) continually violates the home spaces of everything on the planet. It might take a very long time, but Nibi always escapes the container.” (pg 33)
escaping containers…reminds me of Báyò Akómoláfé who often invites us into the cracks and seeping outside containers.
there is more. of course…there always is. but this post isn’t about completeness. tomorrow i will head home. weather will be less weathery, the “River” having moved north, where there is catastrophic flooding, Water uncontained. my car, Luna, will be more Moon chariot than Fish. Water that needled my skin, touched my lips, seeped into my body will linger a while longer until i exhale it back out. Water, that uncontainable traveler will travel home with me in some form. tears most likely.
oh, and Joey, the rescue pug that became my companion in June, is staying with the foster family that was his home until he came to live with me. this has been our first “separation.” he was excited when i dropped him off sunday evening, though confused when i left. the follow-up report say he is doing fine. the one night home without him…i missed his presence—such a sweet snuggler. down here with the Rain and Wind and not being able to leave him in the room…it would be difficult. it is okay to have a break. like when my kiddos were young. and i’ll be happy to see him tomorrow.
for your reflection:
have you every thought about what might be “apprenticing” you? what might that be?
what transitions are you aware of in your life? how do you navigate transitions?
what is your relationship to Water?
a different flavored post today. a ramble. having to be okay with incompleteness. would love to hear how you are being.
during these darkened days in the northern climes, though winter solstice is less than two weeks away, i hope you continue to take tender care of your hearts. and, if you have the energy to offer kindness to others, human and non-human, you meet on your path, please do. it isn’t a magic potion, but we may never know the impact our kindness has on someone else’s life.
in gratitude,
anne
This is wonderful. I love Cannon Beach and the coast. I've rented a cabin for a personal retreat there before. I'm thinking about a yurt at Lookout Point State Park in the new year, but that lodge is tempting...
Everything about this is so beautiful