To be a coquina...

I like the beach.  It's one of my favorite places to be, and I don't get to go often enough.  I love to get up early, just as the sun is coming up, and walk down the beach alone.  I'll stop, and look out over the surf, letting the water wash over my bare feet, and then proceed on my journey, nodding to the old lady in a hat riding her bike, and smiling to myself over what her reaction might be if I stripped off my clothes and ran naked into the waves.

It made me think of an ancient woman I met at an artfest in Vermont.  She was a sculptor, and made beautiful, curvy, shapely creations of nude women.  I could not leave without buying one - she showed me how she used her fingers to create the curves, fondling the item lovingly.  It sits on my shelf today.  I could not help but think that had she been the woman on the beach that I had just passed, she would probably have joined me in our free-spirited run. 

I think of my life now, and how I don't want to become the old lady on the bike.  I think about how aloneness helps to numb the emotions, but feeling emotions is what gives us our passion.

I watch the little coquina snails come to the surface to feed as each wave comes up an irregular periodicity.  The snails open their colorful shells and wave their siphons in search for food.  Then, as quickly as it came, the wave retreats, and the tiny molluscs retreat back underneath the sand until another wave comes.  A life of putting themselves out there - to all the elements, risking everything - only to retreat back to the safe harbor of their home.  That is how they survive.

Sometimes, I want to be a coquina...