Strong storms moved through my heart over the holidays
and tossed around the landscape of my life
(or did storms batter my life and change the lay of land in my heart?)
Yes and both, I think.
I’m fascinated always by the power of storm,
challenged by the change and re-arrange left in their wake.
I remember heading back to the beach several times
after we’d had to evacuate for a hurricane,
in awe of how yesterday’s dunes were swept from the shore
and now mounded high against the faces of distant cottages,
and the large chunks of boardwalk that just days ago
firmly sheltered feet from sandspurs
somewhere far and away,
now splayed across the beach like dislocated elbows.
Roads washed away and new jetties carved into islands
…fierce, sudden, unexpected change.
That’s where I find myself this cold, gray January
and I’m buoyed by my curiosity
as I explore what still feels true
and what needs to be new
and there is something breaking out inside of me,
a yelp, a roar, a whoop, a howl,
and I’m making tracks across this fresh washed beach,
releasing the bellow in my belly for something braver, wilder, realer
rawer, truer than I’ve walked in before.
And I’m glad for the wild winds
that knocked loose and jumbled
some of my nice, safe, stuck lines
and opened spaces for changes I didn’t know I was hungry for,
blew away the false and stirred my soul to dreaming
fierce and fearless and childlike again.
Whatever this new year brings,
I’ll be making tracks, fresh and new
and building something solid, free and true
(and, always, cheering hard for you:)).
“Show me a day when the world wasn’t new.”
-Sister Barbara Hance