The excitement of seeing the vast expanse of the ocean on a cold day. The thrill of gently warming air, the ability to walk on sand not ice – new blisters emerge. The water, the waves, the distance. The thrill of the ocean. Always the shock of blue expanse, a mirror to the sky, distance, hope.

I am one of those who fight between opposites. I love the mountains as well. Once, an astrologer told me that “the mountains are holy.” I headed for the mountains, not the sea, and it changed my whole life. Perhaps an argument might be made for not listening too closely to people with strong personalities. Certainly I have been both blessed and cursed in that respect.

And now, here we are, at a crossroads in time. You may think I’m just writing about a day. A Sunday, a day away from toil. Maybe I am. Maybe I am not.

In every phrase, something more. In every word, another. Most don’t listen to the winds around them. They fall back on the acceptable.

Unacceptable.

The wide, wild waters remind me, at least, that there is another world out there. Get on a boat and the next stop is a country with mysteries. I won’t say foreign. Everything around me right now is foreign. I went to buy something at the market, and the white guy joked with his mates, ignoring work, while the hispanic guy helped me. I think there was understanding in the thank you, and have a good day we exchanged. Where are we? I went to a nature preserve – that I suddenly realized was a park – subject to the whims of billionaires – and he recognized me. I recognized him. I always do. He said, “You’re good, appreciate it.” And I said, “Thanks. And I appreciate you.” He nodded. In the unspoken there is support. Look at what is in front of you.

I noticed that some of the people walking on the beach, which was nearly deserted, were people like me. Perhaps older. Perhaps wiser. Perhaps. Looking for the truth in the wilderness. Yes it’s an ocean, with a parking lot. Remind yourself that you can always walk into the waves. How long would it be before the chill waters wrapped around you? I placed my hands in the water. It’s sticky here. Is it salt? Is it the proximity of cities? What do you see, out there on the horizon? A vague shadow of an offshore island, a boat. There were no tankers, it’s not the season for cruise ships.

Where are we? Bird watchers had their telescopic lenses and sensible boots. Where are we? The dunes and the scrub were empty. How many years of silence have they seen? I thought about how I’d read that artifacts were found in this area. The most fruitful site, and I believe this discovery was only after much destruction, as the article was from the 1950s, the area became a quarry. Its treasures dispersed, in T train stations, in ugly apartment buildings, in roads, in municipal buildings, in schools. The curse of destruction widespread, a virus of violent forgetting. Hit me. Hit me again. Earth crying out, asking for true memory, and nothing.

Current events. A country bombed, then called a new investment site. A country threatened and told to exchange its mineral wealth if they wanted survival.

One can hope that ghosts of the past are there, filling and infilling with their breath, what should be held on to. Other countries have records of noting their distant ancestors. How many fascists have visited Stonehenge?

These are the questions that come up. The people that came here, came pleading religion and freedom, then burned women, erased those who lived here, and now their ancestors claim this land is theirs. The public lands are to be turned into slag heaps. It is not yours. They will destroy everything, these scions of fascism. Both failures, they look for destruction to give them fame.

I read a disturbing account of two colonial proud boys who dug up the grave of the newly deceased Native American chieftain, and desecrated it. They were punished with a fine, and had to redig a grave site. Maybe this has been coming for a long time. Don’t celebrate revolution if your party is about erasure.

Redig the grave site. A villain can’t sanctify a space. Don’t give these people permission to touch anything precious.

I think the oceans are holy too.