Thoughts are like cherries, one is never enough
March 25, 2011
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The rain had stopped. Some time ago, hours. The sky was blue, all the clouds were gone. The wind had stopped.
It was one of those mornings, from early spring, when the breeze is still chill, but the sun starts to warm the earth, drying the remains of rain, making them disappear. When everywhere you look, nature just seems to shine, to sparkle under the sun. Not a drop of dust, of paleness, the colours come out in nature, in the trees baby leaves, greener then green, the flowers, just competing with rainbows, stealing away all it’s shades, all the bright tones of rainbows, simply spreading out through the fields, everywhere you look…
A beautiful, shiny spring morning – she thought, looking out the window.
Time to go out, it’s been too long. Too many days, months, of greys, of clouded skies, of that monochrome tone that had been covering the earth.
The sun was shining now, time to go out. Time to feel the breeze, to see the colours of nature, to watch the blossoming of nature, of colours, of joyfulness, of light, of new living, breathing creatures coming into this world, each day. Time to watch life blossom.
Yes, time to go out, time to move. Stillness had been there for to long, it was time to move, to go… go where? To the sea… yes, to the sea. Watch the motion, the ever changing waters, the ever changing sea, always moving, always in motion, but always the same. Strange – she thought. The sea never grows old, never really changes, does it? It moves, it goes back and forth, but never changes.
She walked, and walked, moving, stepping, stepping, one foot after the other, stepping, stepping, moving, going. Walking. Moving. Motion. Stepping. Towards. The. Sea. The. Water. The. Motion. Going.
She smiled to herself. She was walking, and moving, and going, towards… a purpose. Going to the sea, to watch the motion of the waves. She smiled to herself wider. The sun warming her body, she could feel the sunshine on her skin, underneath her clothes. She sighed, letting the air all out, with a smile on her face. She could hear birds, singing their springtime songs.
What a beautiful day! – she thought again. Walking along, in the middle of spring. She felt immersed in springtime. What an odd thought! Can a person actually be immersed in a season? It’s all around us, all the blossoming, all the growing things, all the colouring, like an impressionist painting, and you are immersed in all of it. In the middle of it all.
Another sound came to her, like a background, from behind the songs of birds. A different kind of sound, a different song.
Finally! The sea! The sound was distinctive now, overlaying all the other sounds, as demanding to be heard, calling, singing to her. Calling her.
There it was. In all it’s grandness, in all it’s wild beauty. She stepped into the sand, surprised of it’s softness. The sun had cleansed it. It was dry and warm under the sun. She inhaled deeply. Saltiness. That strong fragrance, hitting her face, her nose, her senses. She felt the salty breeze on her legs, on her bare neck, on her hands, inhaling that purifying fragrance.
She moved to the shore, shoes in each hand, her feet burying into the dried soft sand, warmed under the sun.
The soft sounds. Her feet dragging through the sand, while the waves slapping the sand, forth and back, an ever going motion, never stopping, never getting tired. One after another, the waves coming and going. Singing.
What does the sea sing about? She thought. What stories does it tell? Stories of sea creatures, stories of soft sands, of golden sands, of white sands, of darker sands, of giant waves, of blue seas, of green seas, of strange looking creatures from its depths, of colourful creatures from warmer, far away seas. Of new islands being born in the middle of the sea, of old islands disappearing underneath its waters, of rain pouring down over it, changing to greys, of sunshine making it glow, silvery sparkles under the sun, reflecting the skies.
The sky and the sea are one – she thought. The sea is a reflection of the skies, of weather, of rain, of sunshine, of winds, of warmth, of cold, of summer, of winter. And then, there are days like these; soft, warm and chill at the same time, when nature is blossoming everywhere.
But the sea knows many stories! Yes, darker stories, of tempests, of anger, of fear, of despair, of tears, as salty as the sea itself, of death… stories of turmoil, of swirl, where many souls have perished. Of drifting, of loosing the battle, of sinking, of wrecks…
But today the sea is happy, it sings softly to her, telling sweet stories, coming and going, waving at her, smiling at her, sparkling at her.
The days of tempest are gone. For now. Now it’s time to blossom.
Now, the only salty water comes from that soft fragrant breeze, from the sea.
The sea. Salty as tears, from all the weeping, from all the lost souls in the world.
But that is another story – says the sea, smiling peacefully at her, while she smiles back, inhaling and exhaling the fragrance, cleansing her from salty waters.
Other kind of salty waters.