Narrative writing practice: My little corner of the earth.

In my family there is a turn of phrase that is often used. “Every storm runs out of rain.” We use it as a form of encouragement with one another when life seems to be taking its’ toll. There is a place in the area that is very dear to me which in my opinion freezes time and helps create just such an opportunity for serenity and mindfulness. It is a little corner of the earth where the air sparkles with mischief and calm. The manifestation of dichotomy: Where the mouth of the rushing river meets the mighty power of the Salish sea. Seated in the sands of time here it is hard not to visualize all of the generations of children who have climbed this very coastline; Catching fish, crawdads, swimming and communing joyfully in a place that is free from any struggle. The crisp air is fresh in your nostrils with just a tinge of salt and kelp. When you exhale you can almost taste the dank shade of earth and moss across your palette. Breathing in your surroundings you may well become overwhelmed with the colors that the environment evokes. Sharp green leaves, with dark rich peat brown; Blues and golds as the sun hits the water; the silver lining of the clouds as they cover the trees is unmistakable. You can see and even feel the two mighty waters rushing to meet one another in an embrace as old as their friendship. If you recline with your face toward the tributary, the panoramic view is unlike any other place in the world. To the left you can see the valley unfold itself all the way to the cascade mountains. Behind you are trees, bushes and fields gently cradling you into this place of womb-like, comfortable isolation. To the right: the broad and sweeping waters of the sea; powerful grey-blue frothy waves come barreling haughtily into the lands where my bones belong. The rocks and drift wood on the bank briny, sun baked and water worn; clank against each other to tell the story of all of that has happened under their guardianship. Each gleaming ripple in the sand a silent homage to eons of experiences. The sedimentary stones show-off their layers. All of the eras of pressure and struggle joined together to form a beautiful and ageless, powerful wonder. It would be a challenge to marvel in all of the majesty here and not feel whole. The waters here are my own lifeblood and sometimes while enjoying the silt against my scalp I think that I may just feel the restorative influence of salmon returning to their home in my veins. From the berries to the sun, from the clear water to the sea, everything about this place is fecund and sacred. This little cove is in every way a place of peaceful worship.




I commented on Validia's blog and on Kim's blog