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the beauty and the stuckness

liz lamoreux

gearhart morning . june 15, 2011 (straight out of the camera)

so this is what i love about this living thing:

you can be in the midst of an almost perfect moment as you stand at the edge of the pacific ocean while the rain gently taps on your head and a sense of awe grows inside you as you are side by side with a kindred spirit who deeply sees you. this is an awe that starts in your belly as you find your breath and hear the waves and the laughter as you pick up sand dollars and tuck them away to be shared with people who are traveling across the miles to come together and dive into pieces of their stories. you can be almost resting inside this awe as you take another deep breath and feel the sand in between your fingers as you turn to head back to the car that represents this adventurous side of you that has begun to stretch again after a year of quiet and "oh so much." you can begin to talk about all that is to come as you roll the windows down to hear the ocean as you drive on the sand toward coffee and eggs and the perfect from scratch biscuit that await. you can be right in this moment, right in the noticing and the beauty of all of it, and suddenly something will shift and you are in the midst of a new experience that has you losing the grip on the beauty and bringing in a feeling of "how did this happen?" you can be literally stuck with your wheels spinning right there in the sand with no one to call to help you and thoughts of "how the hell did I get into this one?" tap tap tapping on your head. 

but then there will be laughter and an invitation to take a breath and possible solutions brainstormed. and a passerby will redirect his path to look you in the eye and say, "so it looks like you are stuck. maybe i can help." and the sun will slice through the grey just like that. and then two more will appear with their own tools for the journey and a plan will be hatched. and even as you sit behind the wheel of your own stuckness, you suddenly will hear the waves in the distance again and remember your breath because these people who just appeared will begin to pull you out. just like that. there will be a shift into neutral and reverse and back back back you will go in a do-over of sorts as you listen to the waves through the open window and giggle as you realize no one got angry and said, "how could you do that?" or made you feel silly, and a tiny thought of "you didn't even invite yourself to feel small" will float across your mind and you will know that truth, even if just for that second. 

and there will be gratitude and hugs and a suggestion to take a new path for the next step to avoid repeating this specific adventure. and for a change you will agree that a new direction feels just perfect even if it is 4.5 miles out of the way. and you will shift into drive with the windows rolled down and say aloud to the kindred spirit beside you, "well, if we were going to get stuck, that was certainly the way to do it." and you will both laugh and then listen to the waves as you roll on down the path ready to begin it all again.