Coastal Way

I stand before the threshold of the world.

Clothed only in the radiance of love that shines forth

as a beacon to lighten the way.

My only navigation;

The stars by night and sun by day.

Where will I rove?

I am a gipsy of the wayfaring spirit.

The journey unfolds:

One step,

Two steps.

Light of love brings forth sight onto the soil beneath my feet.

No present destination will ever be encountered.

Pathmaker's journey unfolds with each step.

Always a step into the unknown.

Step quietly,

Step mindfully.

Gipsy of the wayfaring spirit traverses far and wide

for there is no destination.

Only destination is found within my heart.

Love is the life of my breath

and sustains my spirit for eternity.

I wrote this poem back in the spring of 2005 when I felt a great change in my life. It was subtle but my perception had changed... a change deep down within me. And so thus, began the new journey. A milestone in my life marked. And when I look back on the last two years, with my experiences and the people I have met, the fond friends I have, the steadfast love of family, the poem is so true to my heart.

And here I find myself presently in Hawthorne (Los Angeles), California. With the picture I had posted above taken at Portuguese Point at Abalone Shoreline Cove on the Palos Verdes Peninsula, I am not surprised to find that my present journey has led me here. I have passion for the sea, the coastal ways. I am not much of a seafaring person to sail the open waters but perhaps more of the landbound with a view overlooking the vast blue. There is something so calming, so peaceful of wild places where the water and land meet. And of course I love to beachcomb. So any beaches that offer treasures of rocks, shells, driftwood, captures my imagination. And of course, the rarer treasures that wash upon the shore... like the glass floats from fishing nets that come across the miles from areas like Japan or the bottles of different sizes and colors (but will as one of my favorite childhood books, Do Not Open, teaches... do not open tightly closed, dark bottles). :)

And thus, conclude with my mom's favorite poem Sea-Fever.

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;

And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,

And a gray mist on the sea's face, and a gray dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;

And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,

And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,

To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife;

And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,

And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.
John Masefield