I’m happy to roll out my new blog site, “Shorelines.”  This is a place where I’ll share my take on the humorous and ironic observations of life, but also some of the more poignant intersections that connect us all as human beings.  And I hope you’ll share back.

I chose the name Shorelines because my very favorite place in the world is beside a lake, where the blue green mountains slope gently toward the water.  The shore I love is often surprising and constantly in flux.  There are big rocky cliffs for jumping, sandy beaches tucked in bays and islands close enough in to let you walk out.  There are turtles sunning themselves, kayakers, and even bald eagles who have returned to nest in this ancient glacial basin.  No two shore points are ever the same and there’s always something to discover about the land and about myself.

Water is elemental.  It’s a healer.  As I make my ritualistic swim to the point across the bay, with each stroke I begin to shed the mental weight that the day has piled on; the shoulda- woulda-couldas and the “to do” list the length of my leg.  In the water I can free float and unhinge my mind.  Some of my best ideas have been born there.

The shore can be a place to push off for a journey, or it can welcome you home.  It is both an embarkation point and an anticipated place to return.   A wise friend who was helping me once in a time of despair said this “When your spirit is failing you, go to the land.  You can turn to faith, friends, family or loves, but the land has the power to be an uncomplicated healer.”

And he is right.  When I go to my place on the lake I simply feel more myself.  I can touch the depth of my roots.  The trivialities fade away.  It’s me and the land and the lake.  And when I feel my own insignificance in the great big spinning world, somehow I can smile, if not laugh at what I consider to be my problems.  I can soothe my sometimes world-weary spirit on the banks of the lake.  And the best part is, the land can’t talk back.  It simply is.  The water just keeps pushing toward the shore and then retreating, a soothing metronome, keeping the beat of time.

Standing at different places on the shore can offer varying perspectives, if you are willing to look closely, to really examine the view.  And life is most interesting when different points of view collide. I suppose that in its most elemental form, the view from a shoreline is a metaphor for life.  In the morning, the sunshine bathes the eastern mountains in light and in the late afternoon it sets over the backside behind the house.  At the shore, one witnesses sudden squalls and violent storms, cloudless days and morning mist, clinging to the trees.  Occasionally we are rewarded with the gift of a rainbow.

So in this writing space I will try to provide a kaleidoscope of perspectives from mother, woman, friend, sister, daughter, spouse, from the more serious to lighter things in between.

Thanks for joining me here on the shore.  And thank you for adding your own perspective to mine when you leave a comment or share your story.  Those are my favorite parts.

Sit with me just a moment.  Close your eyes.  Smell the scent of mown grass above the boathouse. Waves lap.  A heron flies overhead and out above the lake a hawk soars, catching a thermal lift. Pine needles whisper and sigh in a stirring breeze.  Sunlight knifes through the slats in the dock. Feet sink into the plush wet moss on a rock. All of the best things in life come down to these small moments.


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