When I finally left this sheltered place it was like being unplugged from a miraculous event. A bay as of yet, not too discovered or encroached upon by two legged creatures, and only about an hour and fifteen minutes drive out of Christchurch.
This bay with black sand and floating golden castles amongst the trees next to the sea of turquoise blinding my memory of anything else, I stood amazed, fell to my knees, sat in place, I tried to take photos and only a third would appear, the shutter to my camera lens, was like I, blown away by the unanticipated love affair.
I found my place to negotiate my need to flee Christchurch. A place I can arrive at easily and contemplate the natural aspects of life that sometimes feels as if they might roll over me like the pounding surf.
In this place of shelter the sea feels moderated by the distinct absence of golden sand, the black sand juxtaposing the drift wood like ancient bones with so many stories to tell me...the golden aspects in the cliffs peaking through the trees like ancient cathedrals welcoming me to worship my own appreciation of nature.
I sat listening and made a vow to return often, to make it my own place of refuge and ordered pilgrimage. This bay shall have no name for now. It is a private beach with my name on it.
No comments:
Post a Comment