I stand at a stretch of sand meeting the delicate waves of the ocean. there is not light to see, but my eyes are open, desperately trying to understand what they deem is not there.
the wind shifts from gentle caresses and the splash of the water sounds like it’s starting an argument. my insides have began to churn, I cannot grasp what I cannot see, and I blink, hoping the split second I closed them was the split seconded my scene would change. but it doesn’t.
I close my eyes now, tightly mashing them together bringing a pain to my temples. the ocean seems to be coming from my lashes, and my teeth clench like a clam, almost inseparable. there’s a voice from the ocean, telling me to relax. but I can’t, I just can’t. it was like time was still, but I didn’t will it to keep going. I complied and froze.
then kisses of warmth hit the apples of my cheeks, and the tip of my nose. the creases in the corner of my lids felt like they were unglued somehow. I open misty orbs, zeroing in on the glimpse of light on the horizon.
looking at the vast blue mass, going farther and farther, with my eyes once again trying to see. they search for something to focus on, but cannot see the end. they reach out like hands frantically trying to hold onto the salt in the harsh waves of life’s ocean. but they are too small and too many.
they hope that if they can see something, out there at the end of the ocean, then they can see the future. but they haven’t realised yet that they’re looking for the sun.
manannán’s cloak skirts the edges of san francisco, shrouds the city in cottonball fog as he walks the bay’s shores.
it is a place of in between, from the travelers on the wharf to the vibrant castro district, and sometimes he rides the cable cars till he can touch the clouds, and sometimes he sleeps on the curb and blesses those kind enough to give money and a smile.
when he smiles, even through the cold, it gleams in his ever-shifting eyes.
here in the south of california we aren’t so lucky to have his cold misty seas-
here, the pacific is gray green, moss water and chalk sands, and seaweed dangles from our ankles when we rush into the lacy waves
here, past the blazing sun, anemones stretch their tentacles, sand crabs scuttle across our feet
we shy away from the impossible depths of the ocean- to see its life, so far from our own, is to recognize how small we are
even with our coastal homes, with all our shining riches
we are grains of salt adrift in inky waters
the son of the sea sits on the weathered docks, angling out towards a dropoff-
Selkie women are the women you don’t understand. They are the women who know that they belong to another tribe, in another element. And so they seem as though they don’t belong in yours — and they don’t. They are the women who live by other rules and values, because their rules and values are different from those of this world. They are the women who sometimes seem to be listening to other voices, or music you can’t hear, or the call of distant bells. There is a faraway look in their eyes.
Selkie women are the ones who look as though they came out of fairy tales, because they did. The ones who look at the sea longingly, who look at the sky as their home. They do not fear death. They only fear imprisonment.
this is literally my favorite video ive ever seen on tumblr
…it’s hypnotic…
ALSO- I’m glad this is my second most successful tumblr post. A little background about this video: I took it the day there was the nuclear missile threat while I was on Oahu. That morning, I thought it was my last day on earth and I was about to meet my impending death by nuclear missile. After the island was notified that the alert was actually false (mind you it also took them THIRTY-EIGHT minutes to tell us it was fake) my friends and I drove to Costco, bought a bunch of snacks and fruits, and spent the entire day at this beach. We didn’t talk much, as the concept of life and death was all across our minds. I swam in the water during the sunset, and had just gotten out to record the last light rays that remained. This video reminds me how precious life is and how I will always remember that feeling
To each day there was a healing plant
To cure the woes of a sick planet
One for each day
So that everyday
There was still a chance to heal and forgive
To stop your tears, to grow from grief,
You have done enough
You have been strong enough
Kind and wise enough
Today there is healing.
Ocean's Meadow 