Saturday, September 13, 2008

Ebb Tide

Today I moved into my novel with ease. I spent the biggest part of the day lost in this world I am creating. When I emerged, I exchanged IM with my brother's girlfriend. We talked at length concerning chaos that has entered their life. I left the conversation with a promise that I would take the time to put all my thoughts in writing for my brother. Reuniting after years of separation has proven to be a tenuous affair for me. Sometimes I'm not as strong as I thought. Sometimes I'm stronger. It comes in shifts. I'm reminded of an ebb tide.

The first time I experienced an ebb tide was on a small island on the coast of Georgia. Each night I would walk the miles of beach alone as the wind brought the only music needed. On the last night, I went out to walk and found a complete and profound stillness. The ocean seemed to have disappeared. The air was thick and heavy, making it hard to breath. The birds were gone and the moon rode high in the sky. I made it my mission to walk out to meet the silent water. I walked straight to where the surf should have been and kept going. I didn't look back. Soon my toes touched the motionless water. I looked around and saw that if the tide came in suddenly, I would be underwater and far from land. But there I stood with my arms open, looking at the stars in the sky.

Moving back into my brother's life gives me the sensation of standing where I might drown at any minute. Do I run back to safety or do I open my arms and search for the stars?

My give to myself and him is to risk the ebb tide and remain in place. I won't dwell on what is behind me, the safety of what is known.

My hawk appeared again today. As most of you know, I live on the fringes of Atlanta. At night I can see the skyline just up the road. A hawk here is unusual. Today he landed in the tree outside my writing window. He is huge and beautiful. For me he represents strength. I went to get my camera to capture his image for a future blog post, but he was gone when I returned. Sometimes we can only live in this very moment and that's all we have. I did hear his call an hour or so later, reminding me he would be back.

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