As I can’t walk far, my husband sometimes takes me on a short trip to the coast (we only live around 20 minutes’ drive away). Sometimes I’ll want to visit one of our favorite ‘tame’ beaches where we used to walk our two dogs when they were younger. I have such beautiful memories from those trips: our black Labrador was an incredibly strong swimmer and would relish jumping over bigger and bigger waves to retrieve a tennis ball thrown in for her; the younger dog preferred to paddle along the shoreline, less confident in the deep water.
Then it would be time to go home, with the car smelling of damp dogs, snoring contentedly in the back. Simple joy that puts a smile on my face even now. I can still smell the salt air, and the damp dog in car smell; I can still see the sun glistening like diamonds on the sea; I can still hear the occasional airplane taking off from the nearby airport and heading out over the sea to America; I can taste the salt on my lips; I can feel the sand ingress through my boots and socks to linger in the spaces between my toes. Wonderful!
At other times nowadays, our trips take us to one of the ‘wild’ beaches, and these are to be found mostly further up the coast―my childhood stomping ground. No pristine sand and promenade here, but rather natural harbors and rocky beaches which allow the most amazing displays of wild seas. This is where we parked up one day, watching the hypnotic might of the waves crashing over rocks, powering onshore then dragging themselves back out again, seemingly taking half the shoreline along with them. I am entranced by the sea when it is in such a fiery mood. It makes me feel alive. It also has a certain melancholy to it. Here’s the poem I wrote on one such day:
Choppy Seas
by Anita Neilson
The seas are choppy today
a writhing mass of souls forlorn,
hissing and thrashing
their way to the shore.
Lovers lost, fathers gone
children ever mourned,
their inner turmoil reflected
in the gathering storm.
This watery vault
of loved ones’ cries
is pushed and pulled
by the impatient moon
climbing its way upwards in the sky.
Gulls shriek in reply
as they rise and fall
above the angry swell.
The lull comes soon but fleetingly,
and all is calm.
In the stillness the words flow:
“I Am in Everything
Everything is in Me.”
“I Am."
(This poem is an excerpt from Anita's new poetry collection, Soul Murmurs: a mix of poetry and prose centered around the seasons to reflect the eternal cycle of life, and imbued with spiritual wisdom from east and west. You can read more about it here. )
(This poem is an excerpt from Anita's new poetry collection, Soul Murmurs: a mix of poetry and prose centered around the seasons to reflect the eternal cycle of life, and imbued with spiritual wisdom from east and west. You can read more about it here. )
Anita Neilson is an author, spiritual poet, blogger, podcaster and YouTube creator in her native Scotland. A graduate in 3 modern languages, she travelled, lived and worked in Europe before careers in business and education in Scotland. She is now a freelance writer, contributing to many mind, body, spirit and chronic illness publications. Her writings centre around the themes of kindness, compassion and leading a positive, spiritual life. She has published 3 books to date. Soul-Murmurs: Seasonal Words of Spiritual Wisdom to Enlighten the Soul will be published July 26th, 2019 (Aug 1st in US). For all of Anita's social media links, click here.
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