Summer Solace
Here in gorgeous Provincetown, three days after the summer solstice, I walk out the jetty at the far west end of town. I have started many walks here in all kinds of weather, often with a burdened mind. Most days by the return, I cannot imagine what bothered me. It is as if I have left the problem for an outgoing tide.
Everyone has her healing place. I find faith in the changing sameness of the tides. Who could believe that old bleached, beached rowboat will float in a few hours? And then be beached again? It was not until two weeks after 9.11, one late September afternoon, when I swam in the warm shallow pools at the end of the jetty, that I felt some relief, a chance that I might return to my body.
Despite this glorious day, I am troubled. I take a breath and step out onto the first huge uneven rocks warmed from the day, lichen-covered. The chlorophyll in the reeds is in overdrive. I think I can hear it. The sun on the water blinds. The gulls and ducks dive and bob. The swallows skim for bugs. The breeze kicks up. The tadpoles dart in the rippled shadows. The crabs scurry diagonally against the tide.
But this day as I return with one final sigh off my rocky walk, I still carry my worry with me. I feel for the Gulf residents watching their beloved coast, their healing place – birds, water, reeds – get tarred and choked. I cannot imagine their sadness.
This summer I walk this glorious tumble of rocks for them.
June 24, 2010 @ 11:33 pm
Thank you, Kate. I know how you feel in your special spot. The Gulf Coast has been one of mine for almost 60 years.
June 25, 2010 @ 12:40 am
I know that jetty well…now I know it a little better. Thanks. Beautiful piece Kate.
June 25, 2010 @ 1:23 am
I can’t count how many times you have made me laugh, but this is the first time your words have made me cry. As a Florida native, I had sand between my toes before I could walk — so the beach is my sacred grounding place. My heart breaks at the images of pelicans unable to move under the weighty goo of oil, and reports of sea beds with no fish, seaweed, coral reefs — all annihilated by a choking blanket of oil that saps oxygen and blacks out the sun. Thank you for sharing your meditation..there is comfort in the company of other heavy hearts.
June 25, 2010 @ 2:05 am
we all so need a “jetty”, though they come in many forms.
but if only for a moment, our minds are emptied, that “jetty” will be no different than the one in provincetown.
those years of teaching english, taught you well…
today in particular, your writing was appreciated.
M
June 25, 2010 @ 4:55 am
Kate read this last night during her reading at the PRovincetown Public library benefit. It was beautiful and created a sort of oneness in the room..
June 25, 2010 @ 11:31 am
I feel your sadness for what is happening in the gulf. I too have been feeling such a sense of loss and grief…I just realized after doing some meditation this week that the loss I was feeling was not only for things in my own life, but for all the lives and all those beautiful creatures who are suffering as a result of this tradegy.
July 10, 2010 @ 8:08 pm
Powerful insights, Kate. So poignant. Thanks for sharing. You’ve created laughter for years and now with my morning coffee, I feel tears. Watching the footage from the Gulf has been tumultuous and I can only imagine the grief of those living so close to the disaster. Sometimes it feels like the earth herself is grieving. For those who have posted here and those who call the Gulf home, you are not alone. Even us Yankees are heavy with the loss and chaos.