Shana Dean Reiki Awakening

Mendocino, California

I sit idle, watching as each wave licks the compressed sand, lapping it up like a savory treat.  Back and forth, small bursts of white froth move excitedly, digging deeper into the cavernous beach.  The ocean foams at the mouth, curling hungrily around each isolate rock.  These rocks, positioned haphazardly throughout the watery cove, lay hidden beneath mystery and fury.  It isn’t until the fervor of the ocean unleashes angry bursts around them are they exposed, vulnerable.  Like beached whales, they are stubborn and steady.  Occasionally, the lone bird coasts powerfully by, dancing its commanding dance, arduously pumping against the western winds, cutting the evening air like a thick, dull knife.  Seagulls have now returned to their hidden shelters, and the skies are clean, leaving only the clouds as a moving, cluttered canvas.  Various shades of grey glide by, determined, deliberate.  Charcoal, lavender, silver, peach, blues, each color faintly kisses the contours of the heavens.  And as the coastal wind whips by, the celestial art changes, moving about, morphs, evolves into nothing, something into everything.  One glance away and the scene is gone, replaced by a new canvas, new inspiration, a new mystery.  My eyes aren’t absorbent enough to consume each pixel of light and color, not focused enough to catch every angle, each contour and the rich depth that lies before them.  I gobble up each subtle moment; each luxurious second feeds into my mind, my body, my soul.  I can feel my molecular structure change.  Each cell, each atom slows, relaxes and meditates my body.  My muscles, my blood, my flesh, all bubble and simmer, fluid and flexible.  Am I any different than this great spectacle I feast my eyes on?  Am I the ocean in all its glorious fury, the air that whisks by, carrying with it the soft grey sky as one complete and complex unit?  Am I each seagull that clamored through the breezy current?  Or perhaps I am that blade of grass that chatters in clumps, encompassed by a field of sand.  There is no separating myself from the land, the life, the action.  I am beautiful.  I am life.  And I sit quietly, steadily, yet actively participating in this living, breathing masterpiece.