May 5,2012
The call of the Ocean
It's been years since I was there but I still feel her calling me like a mother calls her child to her bosom. I feel her pulling me wanting me to come home to her.
I first smelled her 1 hour away. The intoxicating smell of salt water,, briny and distinct.
I couldn't wait to get to her, to embrace her and tell her I am finally home. But she knew I was home. She always knew. I love and respect her power and am terrified of her at the same time. None the less I am compelled to go to her fear or not.
She calms me like nothing else has ever been able to do. the sound of the surf rolling onto the beach is is hypnotizing and has a beauty all its own.
It has been years since I was there for 1 day but I remember it like it happened yesterday. The sights, sounds and smell is still fresh always calling me home. The only place I ever felt a belonging to my entire life like roots or a knowing that this is where I should bre. That she is home. She is my roots, ever waiting for me to come home like the prodigal child.
Original journal entry by Leisa Kinney
The call of the Ocean
It's been years since I was there but I still feel her calling me like a mother calls her child to her bosom. I feel her pulling me wanting me to come home to her.
I first smelled her 1 hour away. The intoxicating smell of salt water,, briny and distinct.
I couldn't wait to get to her, to embrace her and tell her I am finally home. But she knew I was home. She always knew. I love and respect her power and am terrified of her at the same time. None the less I am compelled to go to her fear or not.
She calms me like nothing else has ever been able to do. the sound of the surf rolling onto the beach is is hypnotizing and has a beauty all its own.
It has been years since I was there for 1 day but I remember it like it happened yesterday. The sights, sounds and smell is still fresh always calling me home. The only place I ever felt a belonging to my entire life like roots or a knowing that this is where I should bre. That she is home. She is my roots, ever waiting for me to come home like the prodigal child.
Original journal entry by Leisa Kinney
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