Feb 22, 2020

The sun set on our last day in LA, and we sat beachside and watched the surf. The waves that melted one into another, and I could almost feel the soothing and rewiring of my brain. The smoothing over of scars, with each break. Like sharp clear sea glass, worn soft.

People walked like shadows, and children danced in silhouette, in front of the sun flickering brightly on the surface of the chaotic water. We were happy. At sea with peace. Held in grateful celebration.

I’ve wanted to write about how we danced with angels in the city of stars, how our state has been orange colored sunshine, literally- but I’ve somehow held back. Not wanting my joy to wax cliché or cheesy... maybe fearing hope and somehow always wanting emotions to be painted out as their worth.

It was the glamor of this cities stars, twinkling bright, the everyday hero’s we met- the people, one after the next, our own personal walk of fame, on the streets decked with flowers. Under blue skies, with new family, holding space for peace in turbulent and uncertain times. Joyfully surviving. Realizing over and over, dreams take shape on the edge. No choice, it is on, you fools who dream.

Last night while collecting these images to post, Gordon heaped cookies and cream ice-cream into my mouth, and we replayed the reel in slow-mo. Tasted sweetness again, tiny party.

I learned recently that an emotion lasts 90 seconds, yet we often replay the memory of an emotion more that than that. After this year that’s been more wild than not, there’s a lot we could sustain. But let’s let the record break here, cause we want to replay this kind of fine emotion like a favorite wet hot summer hit. When I dip, you dip, we dip.