Beach Memories

Beach Fort – Fort Stevens Oregon

Memories from the Ancient Vacation

  • My crown was made of construction paper, adorned with crayon-drawn jewels. A gift that was handed down from generations past (starting with my big sister).
  • Ribbon kelp, broken sand dollars, seagull feathers, were my minions.
  • The waves marked the boundaries of my sandy realm, beyond them, ships teetered on the curve of the round world. Fools!
  • My scepter was a lone wooden chopstick, blessed by the sand dune fairies, painted purple with glitter.
  • Roasted marshmallows were the staple food of my land, harvested from plastic bags, which grew wild in the grocery store.
  • There were morning rituals to be performed, such as the hallowed mini-boxed cereal, opened along perforations. An elixir was added, milk. I would bless the brew with a plastic spoon.
  • In my kingdom nothing was saved. Saving was sacrilegious. It was barbarian to wash a utensil and reuse it. Paper plates were saints. So, it was written, so it was done.
  • I wore a bathing suit and rubber sandals. It was a commandment from the priests (mom and dad). I was to look as idiotic as possible. That was the way to true enlightenment.

 

Memories from the New Vacation

  • My crown was a snapback cap with my favorite sports team logo, even if I didn’t have a favorite sports team. Even if I didn’t like sports.
  • My minions were, apps, emojis and text messages. Even selfies followed me!
  • The beach marked the boundary of my condo, where people were known to walk! Fools!
  • My scepter was an iPhone, blessed by the corporate fairies called computer programmers.
  • Marshmallows were replaced by tempeh, harvested from plastic bags which grew wild in the “natural” section of the grocery store.
  • Sugar cereal was banished, replaced by (gulp) unsweetened granola with vanilla almond milk (cheater)
  • In my kingdom nothing was saved. Saving was sacrilegious. It was barbarian to be caught with technology older than 2 months. So it was texted, so it was done.
  • I wore Crocs clogs, with cargo shorts. I didn’t need mom and dad to help me appear idiotic. This is the way to true enlightenment?

 

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Early Exit

Some leaves make an early exit.                                                      

They wait for rain.

More photos here.

 

 

Ramona Falls’ Mist

Ramona’s whisper requites us to ourselves—our fires extinguished, our thirst sated.

That voice, a pact between mountain and moisture, is a quiet call to us

The stumbling pilgrims, forest wanderers, wishful sages who suffer from acute chatter.

Its language—slow—near wordless, near nothing, paints upon the brow reminders…

Of lost talk of the ancient shape of myths, wrapped around delicate, heavy truths,

Source of our combined story.

 

We arrive with city hands, parched

To drink for the first time—again.

Looking Glass

Little Crater Lake, July 2018

A double blue reflection. The cobalt of the lake with its graveyard of dead trees lying on the bottom. One recent death half-floats in purgatory. And the deep blue of the sky, foregrounded by a living green forest. Both blues framed by ancient volcanic formations. All is alive, even death.

 

More photos here.