beach combing in West Marin











I take root in the Pacific, in scouring the beach for treasures. In watching the surfers in their full body wet suits. In the mountains in the distance and the way they shimmer from green to gold, and gold to green, every year. Every year. How the eucalyptus reminds me that here, we are all transplants.

I take root in the Pacific, in the swell of waves, in the abalone and clam shells that litter the coast. In the way the people on the beach call out to one another, showing off a find. Asking, "what did you find?" and truly listening for the answer, excited for one another. There's openness here.

I take root in the Pacific, in mama ocean, in my cool weather beach combing. Others may not understand, but those of us who have taken root here, we will always get it. The salty breeze, the shoes you have to wear (or else your feet will swell with cold), the sunlight warm on your back. The blue-green stretching out in front of you, endless.

I take root in the Pacific, for the Pacific has taken root in me; and the same love swells through us all.