The Beach and Stormy Seas

On a whim Saturday morning, Husband and I decided to take the babies to the beach for a quick and relaxing getaway. My in-laws are building a home in Long Beach, Washington, so it was to there we headed. Shortly after buying the beach property, my in-laws had Husband and Little Brother, aka--the guys who can build anything, build a small cabin to house all of us beach-hungry kids of theirs until the house is complete.

The cabin is a cozy little place with kites adorning the walls, a stove to warm fingers and toes, and usually 1-4 outdoors men hustling about getting ready for the next clam dig or crab fishing trip. During the evenings, we usually snuggle in for a movie or spend the night entertaining each other with jokes and stories.

Saturday, Husband, father-in-law & my uncle-in-law took to the seas in their fishing boat to catch us some crab and they did not disappoint! They returned home with 36 MONSTER CRABS!   Let's just say our dinner was nothing short of a feast.  Since the catch, we've made some Divine Crab Pizza and some good old crab cakes. Mmm.


Sunday, we headed for the beach to enjoy one of the last 70 degree afternoons of the year here in the NW. With sand in our toes we ran. jumped. yelled. laughed. played. chased. searched. stared. listened. breathed.

Playing on the beach was the perfect preface to a session of Care of the Soul reading. With Asher asleep and Brooklynn sitting comfortably in the camping chair next to me watching DORA on DVD, I began to read.

Thomas Moore writes,

"There is nothing neutral about the soul. It is the seat and the source of
life. Either we respond to what the soul presents in its fantasies and desires,
or we suffer from this neglect of ourselves. The power of the soul can hurl a
person into ecstasy or into depression. It can be creative or destructive,
gentle or aggressive. Power incubates within the soul and then makes its
influential move into life as the expression of soul. If there is no
soulfulness, then there is no true power, and if there is no power, then there
can be no true soulfulness." pp.129

During a period of time in my late teenage years, I battled depression. I suffered to the point that I was not sure if I'd ever be "normal" again, or if I'd ever be able to feel anything again. I was numb, unable to express myself or make decisions. I was in an unhealthy relationship that was far too unnecessary for a girl my age. It was during this time that I suffered the great conflict of pleasing others and repressing my own needs. Much of the emotional turmoil had to do with differences in my spiritual beliefs and those which I was raised to live, but also was the fact that I had no idea what it meant to take care of my soul.

Around this time, I remember sitting in a booth at Sherry's Restaurant across from my girlfriend, Emily dissecting my sadness and the hopelessness that I was feeling. That night we drank coffee into the wee hours of the morning and she listened as I attempted to strategize an easier course for myself. The struggle proved to run deeper than what a few cups of joe and some good conversation could fix, insomuch that its stubbornness followed me into college, visiting me at often in-opportune times. Although much of my depression had subsided by this time, I was still encountering rough waters. After each hit, I wanted to believe that the storm had settled indefinitely, but just as the ocean conjures, stormy seas would meet me again in clouds of questions and painful crashing waves.

One afternoon during my senior year in college, while driving the winding 270 from Moscow, Idaho back to Pullman, Washington--just nine short miles, the realization came to me--that until I put in the precious time to embrace the ache and dreariness within me, I was never going to reach solid ground. I had to reconcile the weathered parts inside before I could reclaim the parts of myself that I never seemed to have hold of, but seemed to have hold of me.

In an older post I wrote about this period of time when I described my process as I tended to my pain, the questions and the truth. I write about that particular year and that basement that I lived in with adoration, as it was there that I sought and met the beginnings of a personal reconciliation. It was in that tiny little basement bedroom that I surrendered to it all and with what I had of myself spiritually, began to heal and nurture the parts damaged in the storm.

I recognize this cycle of quiet-tending-to throughout difficult times I've faced over the years of my life. Its been necessary as I face trying seasons and it is necessary in my everyday as I am a woman who could not sanely exist without heaping amounts of solitude or my faith.  I'm just happy that at this time in my life I can run. jump. yell. laugh. play. chase. search. stare. listen. and breathe. and do so soulfully and faithfully.