"I love the rain. It fills up the ocean, kinda."

[theatokos]

I went out to the beach today, the rocky lonely beach, grey and cold. It's been raining steadily and lightly all day long. I stood at the edge of the ocean and breathed in it's damp green smell. The mossy trees behind me, either evergreen or barren. The fog wafting around the islands. A fishing boat passed the cove (I am afraid I still can't tell the difference between a seiner, troller, or trawler). Quiet. And I realized that this is my place.

I am claustrophobic in the city. It's exciting, fun, and interesting in the city. But I can't breathe there. I can't think. Not as clearly as I can here. I've lived in a variety of places in my short life (3 continents, 3 states, cities and rural) and so it's nice to know that I can live anywhere and be happy and have a good time. But, I am learning just how deeply I need quiet space that rock, water, and wood provide.

I also need to quit dragging Alaska behind me, bludgeoning people with it; comparing everything and everybody to it. I just need to figure out how to carry Alaska within me, to allow that part of myself to be who I am- and it has changed how I see the world- but I need to find a way to let go. I think.

Off for wine and hors d'ourves with friends and then a play, "As you like it."