The Ocean

by Santeyio on November 27, 2016

The steady ocean breeze danced through my hair, and the rhythm of the waves crashing along the shoreline surrounded me as I walked along the beach. The water scurrying up and over my bare feet now and again, erasing the imprints my walk had left behind me. I was rather engrossed in searching for sea shells and any other interesting sea washed paraphernalia that I might happen across; so engrossed, in fact, that I did not look around me for quite some time. I don’t know why, but sometimes I get so engrossed with what is at my feet that I become nearly scared to lift my eyes to what is around me. Once or twice I felt a slight nudge deep down inside of me to look up, which I did, but not with much interest, because I didn’t want to walk by a sea shell that was perfect and miss a chance to collect it.

For some time I had held four or five shells in my hand, and I hadn’t much room there for more. Eventually I stopped walking and turned to face the setting sun and ocean directly. As I gazed out across the vase expanse of water, I was nearly blinded by the blaze of the setting sun. I breathed a deep breath of salt air and stood very still, entranced by the gloriously grand and beautiful expanse that lay before me. The cool water rushed over my feet and quickly receded, forming a little trench about each of my feet, leaving only a little mound at the center where the pressure of my weight kept the sand from being washed away. I moved my feet side to side to even out this little mound, and sank ever so slightly deeper into the wet sand, and ever so slightly deeper into the profound reality of beauty that ebbed and flowed and breathed about me.

It occurred to me that I am too often caught up in the details of life to step back, stand still, and really participate deeply in the world around me. Too busy looking for better shells than the ones I already have to look up and bask in the sacred sublimity of the radiant sun setting over the mighty sea, too busy even to stop and examine carefully the shells that I already hold in my hand. It seems rather silly when I think about it. The details become so much less important when I look at the vastness of life, and yet properly placed within the grand scheme of things they become so much more beautiful and meaningful than they are on their own.

I stood gazing at the water for a long time, all these thoughts running through my mind. Whenever a wave would recede back into the next the sunlight would glitter furiously on the millions of little ripples of water, sinking at last into the sand and the swell of the next wave. I pray that I consistently take the time to bask in the glory and unity of everything around me, working together towards beauty, and that I never get so hung up on searching for sea shells that I miss the ocean entirely.

 

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Fall is Coming

by Santeyio on September 19, 2016

It’s the perfect temperature outside where there’s a slight breeze on my skin that’s so cool it’s almost cold, but not quite. The tips of some of the trees are just starting to orange red, and I can just about taste the dry earthiness in the air and feel the ever so slight edge on the gentle breeze as I sit on the second floor balcony of my family’s house in Hartford, all fortelling Autumn stealing upon us. I’m starting to lose track of time now-a-days, but for the past one or two falls I’ve been in Europe. I’ve sorely missed New England fall — I am convinced there can be no part of the world where the fall season is so beautiful.

The breeze is getting a little more pronounced now. I wonder why I love this fall season so much. It’s not just the colors of the trees; not just the beauty that sweeps through the forests like a fire, but something deeper. As I sit here and sip my Taiwanese oolong tea I’m trying very hard to locate the center of this feeling that is washing over me with the almost but not quite cold breeze. Perhaps this season resonates with me so much because it is very much symbolic of joy in the face of death. Many things are preparing for death in this season, but as they die they do so with such blazing beauty. There is no fear or shrinking back from the darkness of winter coming, but instead celebration and joy.

Somehow death makes joy more meaningful, more poignant. I do not know whether darkness is required from a theoretical standpoint to make joy more beautiful, and I think I dislike that idea from both a practical and theoretical standpoint. However, that said, it remains my experience that somehow, someway, suffering can bring about great depth of spirit and peace. It can also do the opposite, but all the best things in life are a two-edged sword. I have suffered, you have suffered, each of us in our own unique ways, but let us find joy in the face of death. I pray that darkness does not rust me but make me brighter.

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Music Blog

September 6, 2016

Hello dear readers, I just wanted to note that I’ve set up another blog for music related posts here. You can subscribe by email to the blog in the sidebar as you can on this site, and you can also sign up for my music email list where I will send updates about my musical [...]

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In Collaboration I

March 2, 2016

A few months ago I wrote this poem with Chloe Richardson. She wrote the first line, I the second, she the third, etc. until the end. Turned out quite lovely I think. In Collaboration I Luna’s dipping through the clouds, white behind the gray and rose. Fall is treading softly on the winds of summer’s [...]

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New Day

February 1, 2016

It is a new day. The waking sun smiles, And life is good. A chance to work hard, And a God who loves me. What more can I ask?

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Idaho

November 27, 2015

I will miss the rolling hills and fields of Idaho. As George and I were driving to the airport I gazed across the brown turned up earth and noticed a half moon hanging wistfully in the late afternoon sky, gazing maternally over the same fields as me. I haven’t slept much this week and drank [...]

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The Hill

November 21, 2015

I was sitting out in the field for a while, up on the hill in Potlatch Idaho, watching the clouds billow over Moscow mountain in the distance, the wind buffeting the right side of my face. I tried to quiet myself but found that ‘mama’ by My Chemical Romance insisted on playing in my mind [...]

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Dearest Sister

October 18, 2015

I write to you about hope. At times, as you have said, it is easy to become cynical and judgmental of people. Truly there is much darkness in the world, and sometimes the suffering and pain, the anger and injustice that surrounds us is overwhelming. But here, when all we can see is the darkness, [...]

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A Few Quotes From Lilith

September 8, 2015

In the past few months I have read two of George MacDonald’s books: At the Back of the North Wind and Lilith. Both have profoundly impacted my soul. If Phantastes was the most beautiful book I have read, At the Back of the North Wind was the most innocent, and Lilith the most profound. As [...]

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Indecisive Skies and Here

September 1, 2015

Two poems I wrote a month or two back. Indecisive Skies Have you ever seen the sky When it can’t decide whether to be orange or pink? Sometimes I wonder If that’s just a reflection Of my own indecisiveness. Here Here I am. Where, exactly; I don’t know. I wonder, sometimes, How much where really [...]

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