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the lighting was incredible and the boats were cool and colorful. and i found an old bottle. a photographers haven. it was so good to photograph for fun. a chance to hang with my roomie. a chance to reflect on seasons. on storms. on life.
i have always known that people love art because it allows them to express themselves, to be creative, to "get it all out" and to be free. but i never really got that. i love art and photography because it is fun and because it tells a story. i like stories. but today, for the first time, i had one of those "self-expression" moments as i was out in the wind on the beach...
life is like a beached boat. so often i am faced with times of tumultuous weather, with stormy seas, and with discomfort and angst. i am challenged, broken, and battered by the winds. sometimes i find myself in a place where i think i should not be. i have run aground or have been uprooted, or i am simply not in my natural habitat. i am broken and stuck and i have no idea how i am going to get myself back on the high sea, back in the routine, back to where i am supposed to be, where i an called, the place for which i am purposed. i have no fuel, no traction, no mobility. all the while, i sit there unable to move, only to be tickled and taunted by the waters, longing to taste the salt of the sea. once i have tasted and seen, i want it all the more. the sand slowly washes away from beneath my haul, grain by grain, inch by inch. i wait. wait to be rescued. wait for some fuel. wait to be dragged back into the sea.
then there are footprints in the sand. and then suddenly, i taste the salt of the sea, and feel the wind in my sails. i am refueled. i am ready to take on the high sea and all that lies within. i have been saved.
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