Doorways come in many forms. This one lives off the Kerry coast of Ireland. At low tide, the sand becomes a work of art, even punctuated by the footprints of occasional wanderers or those of their canine companions. Mine would have been supremely jealous that these paw prints were not hers.
It is a rare opportunity to stand at a meeting of earth-sky-sea with no other humans in sight. On this day the winds were high, the tides low, and it was between various mollusc foraging seasons. I stopped to take the photo just before the sands, whose artful display of waveforms reminded me of designer-bedclothes shyly displayed with the lifting of their watery duvet. It was impossible to venture further without sinking ankle or knee deep in the wet sand, though I would have loved to run.
This wind blew straight through me, fresh but not frigid, clearing the energies of projects, clients, and all of the work-related energies I came here to leave behind. Clutter streamed off my body in ragged cobwebby patches until my field felt pristine once again.
The sunshine brightened, showing ever-increasing nuances of colour, shade and light. The constant sound of wind and waves became a complex symphony of interaction to my freshly tuned ears. I breathed deeply, sighing into the gifts of the increase in vibration.
As I continued to observe, a sphere formed around me. An orb of differentiated sound-light-energy that I could see with my eyes as well as my inner sight. An opportunity to check my field for any lingering resemblance to a sieve, I supposed. Another gift from nature.
As I observed this spherical space, directing more energy to the ragged bits, it filled with more and more light. Sometimes this blinds my physical eyes and I have to stand very still until it integrates so I don't fall over or take some other stupid step that will land me on my backside or worse.
As my vision integrated, an opening appeared just a few feet in front of me. Can you feel it in the photograph? These openings are not the kind the eyes usually perceive. Doorways between versions of reality, such openings entice us into leaving behind our old ways of holding energy and into new forms of fun and expression.
I sometimes feel nature projects these openings in front of me as a sort of dare. Will I have the courage to wander or fling myself through the opening presented? Will I accept her invitation to a different sort of dance?
Pretty much always, if it's just me. On this day it was. I took one step, then another, onto a surface that should have swallowed me to my knees. Nothing. My trainers left no footprints and I could no longer hear the shorebirds crying overhead. There were only the wind and the sky and the sea. I turned to gaze behind me noticing that the car park had vanished, as had my walking companion...and the paved coastal road and any vehicles whatsoever. Another place? No. Another time, I thought to myself. Or perhaps a place out of time where the earth is simply herself with no local inhabitants interfering.
Not new to vision, I waited. There is always more to see. Everything began to shimmer, myself included. As the shimmering intensified it became more and more particleized, almost tiling at one point until the beach and my stance upon it re-established itself once more.
There was my companion, waving from the rickety wooden stairs at the top of the seaside bluff. Her ears lobster-red from the wind and freshness. Neither of us had planned our layers quite right for this adventure.
I waved back, noticing that water now surrounded me except for one small strip of reasonably dry sand. I had no idea how long I had been standing, but the tide was returning and I needed to move quickly or get wetter than my wellies could handle.
I started off, realizing that some part of me had been wondering how I would get back to the BnB from wherever 'that' was. Laughing at myself, I trudged up the beach against the wind.
"Thank you," I whispered to the elements, as I neared the base of the steps leading up to the car park. "I needed that reminder today."
A feeling of laughter and welcome followed me to the car where my friend patiently waited.
"There is always more. Always present," I heard. "Just beyond what you allow yourself to perceive."
(image from my iphone)