The Rock of Ages

I didn’t really remember the Pacific Ocean’s booming, rowdy surf and immeasurable depth.  It’s very different from my usual haunts in the Gulf of Mexico. The vast horizontal embracing the towering vertical of mighty spruce trees resonates through the coastland in a deeply grounding spiritual wave.

This is what I came for – to put my tap root into the earth – to remember that I am.  My reset begins in Forest Park, on the way to the Oregon coast.

The drive to Cannon Beach on Hwy 26 is an easy ride, rolling through sun-dappled forests, reminding me of biking through the woods as a kid in Germany.  The breeze is cool, the forest fragrant with earth and the sap of evergreens, and the sun beams through the trees painting my skin with warm and cool stripes. The joy of being a kid – the energy, the excitement of discovery and delight – kindled a light in my bones that flowed out into the woods in waves of gratitude and love.

My first view of the beach in Seaside reminded me to play.

When I got to Cannon Beach, Haystack Rock was just outside my balcony. It is a beacon to people from all times and traditions. The ancient ones abide.

The moon rising over Haystack rock
the waves caressing the shore
bring me back to Center
where I am

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