"Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again." Daphne Du Maurier's "Rebecca."
Longing. Heart-breaking, gut-wrenching longing. I remember that feeling.
Mine was not of a homestead or family estate. It was of the ocean. Salty air, sand between my toes, and the high-pitched screeching of sea birds. It was of the thunderous roar of the waves crashing and spitting up upon the shore the remains of beautiful shelled creatures, whose armor was of no consequence to the awesome power of the deep.
It was of long walks filled with inspiring sights and peace-inducing breezes.
Today, I had those experiences, once again. In the midst of all of life's challenges and trying situations, I was able to decompress for a while and once again, appreciate the miracles of the moment.
I don't know if I coined the phrase, "returning to self," as I've used it on a number of occasions in my journey of a writer's life. But, today, I did. I truly feel as though I've reconnected to my self in a way that I've not felt possible in some time.
It may have to do with heading out early in the morning to watch the schools of dolphin swim by and frolic in the waves. Or observing the hawks dive into the surf and come up with a catch. Or, seeing the surfers wait patiently for the right moment to catch the wave. So many beautiful moments that serve to refresh and re-energize me in the midst of chaos and unnerving transition.
Things just don't seem to take their toll on me as much since I've returned home. I feel more resilient.
I have my moments. But, they are fewer and farther in between.
I suppose I needed this transition to get me to the place that I long to be in my writing. Baby steps, once again.
I meet my muse there at the ocean's edge. I hear her most clearly when I take the time to walk to the sand and let my vulnerability call to her. I say "vulnerability" because I'm never so alone and raw as when I go there. No make-up, no power-dressing, no masks. I'm just "me." It's so freeing. I let others walk passed and see me for who I really am. They are "raw" and real as well.
It's so refreshing. No one is there to out shine another. They're all just doing their thing, and thinking their thoughts, and processing their lives in a very simplistic way. No judgement, no competition, just living the "Salt Life."
I suppose that's why hikers hike, and bikers bike, and sailors sail, etc. It keeps us in awe of something and someone so much greater than ourselves. Nature in it's purest sense keeps us humble and very aware of our "humanness." It washes our soul.
And, it's from the soul with which we write. Pure and unaffected, if we allow it.
I also have a supportive family who believes in what I dream to do. And it is they, my husband, in particular, who has encouraged me to press in and begin to write again. Having others who believe in your talent is a priceless gift. And, I'm so thankful to have those, who when I've nearly thrown in the towel and admitted defeat, come to my rescue at the eleventh hour, and encourage me to push on.
So, here I am, again. And, that's OK. It doesn't matter how many times I try and fail. It's the time that I try and succeed that matters in the long run.