We left before dawn, hoping to see the newborn sea turtles
make their journey from nest to sea and onwards,
the breeze, cool and damp on my skin,
the ocean breathing in and out,
the clouds, changing shape and illuminated
by the sun sending the first light up the horizon
deep purple, fiery red and orange, yellow and periwinkle blue.
The Sandpipers are scurrying, digging,
making good use of their time,
they don’t seem to be distracted by my footsteps.
The seagulls, gliding above the water and
landing on the wet sand.
I see the shape of their early morning catch
dangling from their beaks.
Crabs are darting in and out their holes,
a jelly fish lying lifeless – left behind –
a solitary reminder of impermanence
and what happens when one becomes lost and stranded,
cut away from the source.
Initially we too behave like crab,
looking for something,
talking, laughing, asking questions, making up answers.
Then, slowly, silence descends.
Quietly, breathing with the ocean,
my feet feel the wetness of the sand
my skin, cool and damp,
my eyes following the ever changing light and colors on the horizon.
I’m not thinking of the turtles anymore and their journey.
Today, they don’t appear
but the sandpipers, the seagulls and the crabs are here with us.
So is the damp sand and the ocean waves,
the sun light bursting forth and the morning air.
There are others, walking quietly,
in their own pace.
We are here, now
this morning, this moment
how full and perfect it is.
Copyright ⓒ 2011 Yota Schneider – the art of pausing