Gentle Ripples in the Sand

Made by a constant breeze. That is the texture of this week for me. No great strides. No huge thrusts of activity. No drama. No brass band. Just gentle ripples in the sand made by a constant breeze. That is the pattern, the mark of my MIT's (Most Important Tasks). Steady, relentless movement toward my goal.

I can almost hear the gentle waves lapping at the shore, steady like a heartbeat. Maybe it is not ALL gone. Maybe it's still there.

I'll take those small ripples. Relish them in fact. Feel that breeze and soak up that gentle joy. Steady as a heartbeat. One step. Then another. Here we are again. Another bit closer and yes, certainly in the right direction to being whole again.

Time alone doesn't do it. It requires much, much more than that. This isn't easy. Don't be fooled. Each step is hard fought. But steps in the right direction. I have to be grateful for that.

I looked at pictures late last night of my island. Recent ones taken by a fisherman flying over it. Our footprints are not only washed away, the very ground is gone. The lighthouse is who knows where. It is gone too. I knew this already, of course, but it had been a while since I had had the courage to look again. And it, well, it was another stab at my heart last night. Not easy. But I also heard that underneath the waves, the sands are shifting and possibly rebuilding bit by bit. Hm. I can relate to that.

So gentle ripples in the sand made by a constant breeze and the currents offer up some hope. I know that's not a plan, but hope can be a friend. For now that has to do. Here we are on Friday. The photo is a soft sunset on an eastern shore. I just wanted to think of waves and gentle breezes on my face while I reflect on how good it feels to pull a pencil across some pristine white, and how wondrous certain shapes can be. That's all. Not very grand. But it's the world to me.

Good job this week, well done to me and to all of you. I'm sure we all can say, I did my best, I gave some more, I walked toward something I desire. Now let's all go be naughty. Come on Brush, you want to play in some ink?

Here this will help. I think she has the right idea.