I’ve learned the criteria for deserving love, and it is more simple than I ever could have imagined.
To trust and to let go
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One year ago Zack, Ellie, and I were rolling along a dusty BLM road somewhere at the foot of the Eastern Sierra.
As the Jeep skipped along the hole ridden, bumpy boondock road our butts hopped and bopped around in our seats and we couldn’t help but laugh. The wholesome yet funky guitar lick of “Althea” trickled through the speakers and the spirit of the Grateful Dead echoed through space as Jerry’s voice lightly brushed the words, “nobody’s messing with you, but you”.
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I use to think it was possible to protect myself from disappointment.
When I was a young girl I looked out at the world through my crystal, hazel eyes and decided that I would be a “people pleaser” kind of person, I decided that the pain and heaviness of disappointment would have to find someone else to bog down because there was no space for it in my little world.
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The sun is setting on day 2 of 16, and rays of warm colorful sunlight are burning brightly from the west casting the shadow of my body long and large before me. A sharp feather edged mountain is rising up to my right, and a long valley is opening up to my left where the colors of the sunset are settling down in pastel purples and soft hues of blue. I stare at my shadow as I walk towards the top of the steep grassing mountain side I am climbing, the final push of today’s hiking.
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There is a sort of alchemy within the ocean, the way its power and ubiquitous sorcery sluice for all to marvel in. It is a kind of cosmic baptism for all walks of life. In a way its mystical and watery reticence harbors a clemency, for humans in particular.
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