100 Words - Grounding
I know a place.
Out on the headlands, amid craggy rocks, hardy plants, and rare purple flowers, there is a place where the ocean has carved out a cove. Into that cove thrusts one defiant spur of rock.
It dips lower, so when you sit out at the end, all you will see is encompassing rock walls, opening to the ocean, blue-gray right to the horizon. Waves crash and surge below, the spray nearly reaching you.
It’s a quiet place. There is calm to be found, sitting with the endless waves.
There is a strong sense there of what is.
Out on the headlands, amid craggy rocks, hardy plants, and rare purple flowers, there is a place where the ocean has carved out a cove. Into that cove thrusts one defiant spur of rock.
It dips lower, so when you sit out at the end, all you will see is encompassing rock walls, opening to the ocean, blue-gray right to the horizon. Waves crash and surge below, the spray nearly reaching you.
It’s a quiet place. There is calm to be found, sitting with the endless waves.
There is a strong sense there of what is.