Oceans Within Me

I will sleep no more but arise / You oceans that have been calm within me / How I feel you, fathomless, stirring, preparing unprecedented waves and storms…

Walt Whitman , Leaves of Grass

In the morning, after finishing my coffee and humble breakfast, I wander down the road to the ocean. As I grow closer I hear the waves and the call of seabirds. A vibration begins to build within my chest. Something unknowable awaits just over the dunes. The grasses, as humble as they are, anchor the sand dunes and slow their movements.

Neither wind nor stormwave can dislodged them. Steadfast sentinels, markers of the boundary between the grassland and the sand. Tiny footprints decorate the sand around the clumps – evidence of some passing creatures. The prints stand out like incised intaglio carvings. The green-yellow stalks dash across the landscape like vibrant brushstrokes upon the gray sand canvas. Their dancing in the sea-breeze stirs hopeful anticipation.

The clouds part and the sky sets alight saffron reflections of golden sunbeams. Each edge blazes without being consumed. A fathomless stirring swells up from the depths of my soul – giving rise to expectations of joyous discovery. The sound of my waking thoughts recedes and are replaced by peaceful meditation. The grasses are the borderline between the actual and the possible. I leave behind worries for the future and shadows of the past. Art springs forth as I turn towards the ocean.

This simple sand pathway is my gateway into wonder. Temporarily, time drifts in suspension. All modern communication is self-forbidden. My camera enhances but never replaces my seeking eyes. A myriad of artistic muses whirl and swirl about on wave and wind. More often than not I am alone in this boundless space which lies just over the dunes. Upon entering this sacred space, I offer a prayer to the endless ocean before turning south. Traversing ancient energetic ley lines my footprints meander down the tide-line and back towards home. The scene is never the same twice. Before leaving I glance over my shoulder and smile. The oceans within me grow calm. Refreshed, I turn to my art.

Published by cewheeler

Writer/Artist:12 years in China – univ. lecturer: writing,poetry,culture; editor – magazine/newspaper & actor. 40 years students of the Tao. Traveler. Father. Read my books at: amazon.com/author/wheelerce

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