I am at home and I feel a certain restlessness. It is one I am not unfamiliar with, it is the feel of the ocean telling me that I need to come and sit with her for awhile. At first I resist, I have this or that to do, but in the end I concede and allow my heart to drawn to her shore. As I approach, the sound beckons me to come closer. I sit down on the sand giving myself a few minutes to transition from one world to another. The endless ebb and flow of the tide on the shoreline slowly seeps in. I feel my self slowly relaxing, letting go of what feels like a hardened thin crust of clay I have created to protect me from certain aspects of our modern world. I have not created it consciously, but almost as impulse or reaction by my body to the constant inundation of sounds, sights, and pace of modern living.
Grandmother sea, tate haramara, sends her beauty and love to me the instant I sit down. I can feel that thin layer softening, being melted by her continual beauty. I feel more relaxed. I feel my mind slow. I feel my heart opening to receive what she offers. I close my eyes trying to deepen my connection. The sound of the wind, the sound of the seagulls, pelicans, cormorants, and sandpipers. The sound of each wave breaking, the rush of the water up the sand and then racing to return to the ocean. There are other background noises, but I close them out. I focus just on the sound of the water until that is all I can hear. I can feel my heart trying to catch and hold onto anything my spiritual grandmother has to say and is willing to send my way.
As I rise and prepare to leave, once again I feel that tugging and a small sadness in my heart. I do not want to leave. I tell my grandmother I will miss her, I will pray to her, I will imagine her until I return again. As I walk away, I thank her for the healing I feel.