Yesterday, for the Solstice, I took a day trip to a favorite place. Etretat Cliffs in Normandy. (pardon the absence of appropriate accents, I'm still learning how to edit appropriately here)
The views here are truly spectacular... and were, even on this day of fog and drizzle. All of the weather apps read that it was likely to clear. That all precipitation would stop. That the wind would be low. All of the weather apps were wrong.
It misted, it blew and it blustered, with only a few pauses. It was enough to chase away all but a few intrepid venturers like we two. Just as the mist would blow in thicker and faster, one of us would comment "It's going to clear up any moment now." And the giggles increased as the time went by.
There is magic in this place. The kind that is held in all such meetings of earth+sky+sea. The magic of the day was not in the power of the land or the waves but in the mists. Perfect for a Solstice. Perfect for a power place. Perfect for what there was to see.
I noticed a portal I had not seen before. I used another photo, taken a few years ago, in my composite banner photo for the mystical journeys and retreats I sometimes offer. In that image, these cliffs form the backdrop, with a stargate in the foreground. Portal openings a specialty, you understand.
What I had not seen before opened on this day. The mists showed the portal in the cliff in front of me. It took a few tries in the stiffening breeze, to get this shot. The opening clear for those with eyes to see. I wondered at it a bit as I stood firm against the wind. Does this shot want to be taken? Does this opening want to be seen?
Silly musing, that. All openings want to be appreciated. Seen is another matter altogether. After taking this photo, my companion and I followed the trail down the cliff and onto the beach below. A pebble beach, marked by levels and layers of rocks worn mostly round and smooth by the ceaseless ebb and flow of the waters.
At low tide, lower than I had ever seen before, intricate sculptures of rock and shell were laid bare. The sea bottom close to the arch was carved into amazing shapes. It reminded me of The Burren, in Ireland, whose rock fields and pastures once lay under the sea. The same North Atlantic currents. The same salt water composition. The same winds, though perhaps tempered differently. The same Celtic resonance. The same type of sculptures.
Resonance is such an amazing thing. It shapes us differently and yet in the same ways.
As we left, the tide had just begun to turn. Soon the beach and foot of the cliffs would look as it typically does. No secret caves or treasures. Nothing but the wind and the waves, the sun and the tourists.
Magic is all around us. Now you see it, now you don't.
{photo from my iPhone)