Our bodies are made of rocks, sand, and clay. Veins of metal pulse beneath. Mining operations are blood transfusions that keep the gods on life support. Our spirits disturbed, distant storms, fueled by the heat of life-giving fire, translates the language that created the first world into the depths of our subconsciousness, reverberating in pulses of groundswell that interact with these earthen bodies and take on surprising forms, a rhythm of highs and lows, at turns chaos, at turns sublimely beautiful.

And when the storm is distant? And when the local rainfall subsides, and our bodies are no longer awash with spiritual grief of the present moment? When those creeks slow to a trickle and run clear to the sea? And when those subconscious depths relax for a season, and the murky sediments drop to the seabed and find rest?

That is when we know clarity. That is when we can stand centered in our bodies, and look through our spirit, and into the depth of our subconscious life, and see the strange and beautiful creatures that swim the depths there.

When conditions align just so, and a distant storm unseen sends its forerunners into the crystal clear coves and bays, we can see the dance in whole new ways. We can see the stars in the bright blue sky, and we can see reefs beneath the waves, and we can see the groundswells approach with a clarity unmatched.

That is when we stand there in the shallows, observing the interplay of life upon our bodies, hypnotized by the beauty within us, and next thing you know, we’re smashed into the rocks, gulping for air, our swim trunks blown right off in the explosion and we wash ashore awkwardly, sometimes bleeding, naked, and laughing.

Life is beautiful. Carry on.