This Beautiful Storm

Storms bring about the most beautiful skies and seas. The highs and the lows.

 The sea glass waters fold over into pure white as they pummel the coastline. The sun and moon pull them, the invisible wind pushes them. And in the stillness they are still. 

The vigorous shaking of the sea and all that floats within it creates it's own sudsy edge.

                   The pink clouds unveiled amongst the darkest with small strokes of hope. 

The sky watches the humpback whales below and mimics their breaching. 

The ocean water isn't blue and yet blue is what our eyes see. Or rather all the colors we don't see. When the sun shines down all the colors of the rainbow unto the ocean, all the colors are absorbed except blue and green, giving our eyes turquoise. The depth of the ocean as well as  what the foundation is gives us the shade of blue green. Isn't that marvelous! 

Light in the Darkness: Monochrome After the Storm

Lightning cracked open the sky and the heavens opened upon 

our little Big Island. 

Monochrome after the storm... January 2023

Burning the light at both ends. 

Boom!

Contrasting fringe.

Capriole. 

Coalesce.

Resound. 

Extrovert/Introvert

Abounding. 

Unfurled.

Unwavering.

Face-plant.

Luminary.

Trickled.

Fuchsia refused to be captured in monochrome.

Highlighted by the Sun

Born in darkness and stubborn in nature, its growth is exposed to the light. 

Obstinate it chooses the instantaneous and artificial in the mockery of its inheritance. The temporary perfection that can never be enough, becoming all consuming. A continuous submergence into darkness, masking the genuine and blocking the light. Yet it never stops reaching, longing to be restored.

 

One day it refuses the imperious serpentine in the howling wasteland and returns to whom it was meant to be, who it was all along. And the longer it spends with the sun, the more it longs to be like it. A little every day and some more than others, it soon dances in the wind, twirling in golden rays. The ends, the wiser of the strands, now assimilating the incandescence. And after decades it learns to be more transparent, wisdom birthing and radiating the light from within. No longer hiding in the shadows but celebrating the return home. 

 

Proverbs 16:31

The silver-haired head is a crown of splendor and glory;

It is found in the way of righteousness.

Proverbs 20:29

The glory of young men is their physical strength; and the honor of aged men is their gray head (representing wisdom and experience).

 

John 15:20

So he got up and started back to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was moved with compassion. He ran and threw his arms around him and kissed him warmly.

 

           

My Lips Forever Salty

 

The North Pacific and I share an ever-changing relationship built on elation, cloaked in a heavy respect I’d never turn my back on. Wild beauty in tremendous strength able to change the land as easy as it does ones character. Moodiest of the melancholy during the seasonal storms and celebratory as the sun that sparkles off it’s spirited glassy surface.

Mostly magnificently unexplored and delightedly unmapped, leaving a perpetual adventure of the unknown and home to millions of beautifully strange creatures. 

Fixated on the water, surreptitiously building, I wait anxiously to jump between the tumult agitations that long to pull me into their influence. I take a carefully timed leap bordering speculation. Submerged in translucent envelopment I pause my breath until I break the surface again. Before my heart gets accustomed to the quickening I grab for the jagged coastline and find a foot hold. I sneak out quickly before I awaken the deep and it’s invisible grasp returns to pull me back in. Upright I wait on the edge and pour over the Pacific once more. 

I drift off to sleep by it’s powerful devotion to keep moving, lulling me into the depth of slow wave sleep. It’s deafening rogues spring me awake with rebellious estrangement. I sink back

feeling the rumble of the island. The moon high in the sky yet pulling the tides. 

The coast and my lips forever salty.