Losing Control and Gaining Ground.
Through a short series of fortuitous events, I wound up at the point at Horseneck Beach, for a little while, today. I stood for a few moments and looked out at the water as it rolled and foamed up the rocks on the beach. The wind blew chill and salty-fresh across my face, and through the thin shirt I was wearing. Dark, grey-green water stroked back and forth against the rocks in a slow, timely, rhythm. I don't know how long I stood there before I realized I was crying, and had been for some time. Not a long time. Just enough time. Somewhere along the way, while I'd stood there, I had relinquished the grinding, gut wrenching, minute to minute control that I exert over every aspect of my life. Somewhere along the way I had allowed vague hopes and fears to come up to the surface and into the sun and wind. I stayed for another moment or two, and gave my tears to the wind and the beach, and then I left. Do I feel "better"? No. But I do feel clearer, and I have swung back to the belief that...
there's always hope.
there's always hope.