July 11, 2005

Confession

Galiano.

The island was unchanged really. A few more B&Bs, a few more trees have come down…

I call the trip my “Galiano Magic Trick”. There is that surprise of ocean, coming down the little path to the sand. I remember the first time I saw it, I fell madly, deeply… forever, in love. It is a place that I feel with my soul. But to be honest, when J. and I came around that corner, she looked a little worn. Perhaps it’s time to find a new place to rest my heart.

I startled a nest when I was heading up to the point, a mother bird tried to distract me with much wing flapping and twittering at her young. I pointed it out to J. then went back to set up lunch. Calling me back, he pointed out the black garter snake that had clamped the little chick in his jaws. I was horrified… but did not want to touch the snake or the bird. We managed to scare it off… but the chick lay there almost gasping for breath. Is this some sort of omen? Jesus. It was disturbing.

Watching J. slide down the moss covered stone to the pebble beach below was both frightening and hilarious. It’s only too bad that it was my fault… and if he had been hurt I would have felt terrible. I bitched a little about this, but more for my own stupidity. It’s dangerous to take such uncalculated risks.

My head is full of calculations. Time frames. Best before dates.

I forget when I am actually living it. Breathing it. Tasting what it feels like to just be. BE.

I have been infiltrated.

Slowly. A CD here, a thought… there… a recollection. Hair in my sheets, a memory of scent on a towel. It only gets worse. More dangerous. But do I just release myself to it? Ease in. Like cold water on a hot summer day. It will feel so good once I am used to the water, I know this every time… but it’s still difficult going in over my head.

Makes finding a new place to rest my heart a bit tricky. I only wish summer was here. I would love to go lay on the black stone beach, sweating … knowing that the relief of cool lay at my toes, that there is silence and emptiness waiting for me as I dip my head under.

Where I am the infiltrator.

I am like those deer we watched. Smelling the danger in the air, but knowing it was too far off to be of any risk yet. Twitching my ears and dipping my head for another mouthful. Can you see the tension in my muscles? If there is a moment of apparent risk, my legs will fly into action. It’s best to stay on the quiet grass.

But please. Don’t stop.


G.

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