The Oregon coast has a shore that is continually pounded by roaring slamming waves.  Huge house-sized rocks stand a bit offshore, puzzled at their isolation from the cliffs, themselves sliding into the sea.  I stand in the finest purest sand and as the waves try to pull me to the deep churning, my feet sink into the soft mud.

It is a game with dear little kiddles in my life that my feet disappear in the earth.  And then to squeal and topple into the salty-waves when the next push comes.

Today, back here in the cluttered office with bumpy aching conversations and feeble attempts at procrastination, I have to sink into surrender once again.  Whether I am determined to manifest a boulder of defensiveness, false assertiveness and righteousness or bow my head to release into a frustrating practice of humility, the sun still travels from one window to another.

I sit on the shore of Her love.  No matter where I stand, fight, splash, scream, cry, or sit motionless–catatonic with fantasies of fear and regret–I am safe on the soft sand of the Divine Day, another gift to enjoy and Presence to open.