Synchronicity

I hear breathing. A slow, resonant sound that moves in synch to mine. It is warm huddled under several layers of blankets, and I know that outside it is icy cold, a frost covering the ground. Yet my curiosity gets the better of me and slowly I emerge, padding through the unfamiliar hallway, towards the living area. It is pitch black inside, as 4:30 a.m. is, and as I slide the heavy curtains aside, a gentle glow from the street lights glides into the room. Sliding and gliding, the door too is now open.

And then I listen, to the inhalation, the exhalation. Slow and rhythmic. In and out. In and out. In. And out. The Norfolk pines are silhouetted along the waterfront, even at this early hour, and I know what my gut already told me. It is the sea, the sea. The waves, deliberately and endlessly, rolling onto the unseen stony beach just 500 metres away.

This is my new normal, the reason The Tiny Celebrant has been quiet all these weeks. A sea change, a journey to another place. Looking for peace. Looking for vitality and health. Looking for meaningful work in a region rich in resources, so clean and fresh.

Fresh, yes. Zero degrees, so I head back to bed, the warmth of my body still lingering between the blankets. My breathing returns to the rhythm of the waves, and as synchronicity descends, I sleep. 

Comments

  1. FloraTuesday, 06 July, 2021

    Fortune favours you
    Breathing with the soft song of
    ngā tūātea

    ReplyDelete

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