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From the harbor to the sea at Howth near Dublin, Ireland.

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From the west coast of Ireland, looking for New York in the imaginations that come to mind just beyond the islands, just across the Atlantic pond….

From the west coast of Ireland, looking for New York in the imaginations that come to mind just beyond the islands, just across the Atlantic pond….

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The beach where the stream empties to the sea at Minard’s Castle, near Annascaul, Ireland.

The beach where the stream empties to the sea at Minard’s Castle, near Annascaul, Ireland.

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Maybe you can hear their whispers at the Cliffs of Moher, Ireland

Maybe you can hear their whispers at the Cliffs of Moher, Ireland

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View from the Hook Head Lighthouse to the fingers of rocks and the cold Irish sea.

View from the Hook Head Lighthouse to the fingers of rocks and the cold Irish sea.

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From these mirrored waters existence reflects her image with a wordless prayer and a silent mantra for another tomorrow.

From these mirrored waters existence reflects her image with a wordless prayer and a silent mantra for another tomorrow.

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Behold the sea—my five-year-old daughter Aislin looks from west to east at  sunset from Carpenteria State Beach, and before her the whole world opens in wonder.

Behold the sea—my five-year-old daughter Aislin looks from west to east at  sunset from Carpenteria State Beach, and before her the whole world opens in wonder.

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The Esalen seascape near Big Sur, California, during a mindfulness meditation workshop.

The Esalen seascape near Big Sur, California, during a mindfulness meditation workshop.

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the Esalen farm

the Esalen farm

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The seafields of Esalen, where love blooms always.

The seafields of Esalen, where love blooms always.

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There are three thingsMost beautifulIn all the world we knowNay, there are fourSo wonderfulFor mortal eyes to behold.
A bird on the wingA snake on the rockAnd a man and a maid in loveOne more thing, yes, one more thingAnd a ship under sail plowing the waves.—Pete Seeger

There are three things
Most beautiful
In all the world we know
Nay, there are four
So wonderful
For mortal eyes to behold.

A bird on the wing
A snake on the rock
And a man and a maid in love
One more thing, yes, one more thing
And a ship under sail plowing the waves.
—Pete Seeger

Text

For you


You came into my thoughts just before 5 today. I felt a poem and sat down here to write but no words would come from the dark before light. There’s a poem on the circle somewhere looking for a place to emerge on a page, and there are words in my heart for you trying to escape from the cage but I can’t hear them. I can’t see them. They feel like love and they turn and they run and they spin some. I suppose the poem sits on some kind of long curved shelf of a seabed and the words themselves sit like seashells waiting for a wave to wash away the sand to clean them. Maybe they’ll appear a short while on the shore and someone will polish them and read them, or maybe a bigger wave will roll on in and the tides will subside and the waters recede and the dawn of this day will reveal only sand with the shells gone, leaving beauty. The words of the poem pulse through the blood in my heart, for you, heartbeats of love for you.