A Place of Enough by Ruth Reno

Have you ever been overwhelmed, immersed in a feeling from a place

washing over you like baptism, displacing urgency and care,

and filling you in newness, beginning with a grain of satisfaction that swells like leaven

with every breath of being in its presence?

Go where sea reaches for the hand of the shore,

inhale to your core salty brine of the waves,

watch whitecaps spread onto beach like icing,

spilling secrets and treasures; where you, too, exhale unwanted thoughts;

step through soft sand that pulls you gently to itself

until you reach hard packed and run in exaltation.

Walk to a pool of caught ocean and stare at colors and shapes of another world:

kelp, anemones, crabs, deep spinach greens, purples, and bright orange,

or stand with knobby kneed seagulls and long-legged sandpipers.

Wait for tide to come, touch and tickle, and you to step over a ripple of sea.

Swivel your feet hard to become part of the landscape as they sink deep

and water rises around them.

Claw your hands into sand and dig to China. Build a castle.

Search for ocean gifts or follow a line of throat-pouched pelicans

skimming above the ocean’s edge.

Listen to sounds of waves, shushing, rushing, and crashing on the sand.

Whether standing calm or against the wind, under foreboding black or gray, brilliant red or

orange, or unclouded blue sky, you will be  beguiled by all that is present,

and a slight veil apart from the omnipotence that reigns in this place.