I want you to breathe.
I want you to breathe and to remember the intimacy of the breath.
Tides moving in and out.
Pushing from the depths and returning to the depths.
The scattered discards left on shore.
I want you to breathe and I want you to remember this body breathing.
And I want you to remember what a miracle that is.
Primordial life that moves through you that is you.
You too have arisen from the depths of the unknown.
Of the vast nothingness.
Of the great mystery of what comes before.
You too have arisen from the depths of the unknown.
Of the vast nothingness.
Of the great mystery of what comes before.
There is this life imprinted on your fingertips and into the marrow of your bones and coursing through the rivers of your body.
Let the breath draw you in closer.
Let the breath draw you in closer to the snowing.
Deep in the basin of your belly all the way down into the legs that ache to know which way to go.
Tides moving in and out.
Pushing from the depths and returning to the depths the scattered discards left on shore.
There is this primordial life imprinted onto your fingertips and into the marrow of your bones and coursing through the rivers of your body.
And then,
And then,
You are at the edge of big water.
A wide horizon and the echo of blue,
Blue sky,
Blue water,
Fields of blue.
So much exists within both that we cannot see and within you too.
And you are at the edge of big water and you are breathing and as if you were the moon,
The tides follow you,
Are drawn in and pushed out with the breath you breathe.
You sit and the water touches you with each lap.
The sun warms your face.
The sand cradles you,
Forms to your body.
Today turns to night,
Turns to day again.
And each inhale a pull down into the belly,
The legs and whatever feels stagnant or unexpressed and each exhale we leave it on the shore.
Each exhale debris is cast out from wherever it is lodged deep within.
Twenty-seven cycles.
Each inhale the sun rises,
Each exhale the sun sets.
Big water moving over you,
Soothing you,
Clearing from you confusion,
Frustration,
Old debris from the murky depths.
Twenty-seven cycles of breath,
Day to night.
Twenty-seven cycles of breath,
Day to night.
Twenty-seven cycles of breath,
Day to night.
Twenty-seven cycles of breath,
Day to night.
Twenty-seven cycles of breath,
Day to night.
Twenty-seven cycles of breath,
Day to night.
If you are still counting,
If the days are still turning over,
Go ahead and release the breath.
Go ahead and release yourself.
There is something in you that wants to be free.
There is something in you that wants the warmth of the sun to touch it.
Treasure from below.
Something alive.
Something with a voice.
It is born here on the shore.
Is it still within you,
Still at the bottom of big cool water,
Or buried now in the sand?
Each breath a tide moving.
You stand now and comb the beach in your hands a basket.
You are not sure what you are looking for,
But you will know it.
You will know it.
You hear laughter,
Tiny voices growing louder.
And from a distance,
You appear.
On you for every year you have been alive,
Earth side,
In a sparkle of sunlight on crystalline sand for every million you've been around before.
They come nearer.
And in their hands they each bring an offering to you.
A piece of you,
Formed of smoothed stone or polished glass.
They tell you each a part of your story as they place their offerings into your basket.
Peering down into the vessel,
You know now.
Peering down into the vessel,
You know now the power of an offering.
And you know now the potency of coming together.
And you know now what you are here to do.
What are you here to do?
And together,
Basket in hand the rhythm of the tide in your breath.
You gather up yourselves.
Gather up the big water.
Gather up the primordial life stamped into your fingertips,
Into the marrow of your bones.
And you tell the story that you are here to tell.
No longer afraid of forgetting the ocean on the shore.
