The Point (of it all)

Welcome to my sanctuary; the Point.
The utter-most end of a life.

Often when I walk the beach, I'll seek out a destination; a spot to challenge myself, or rather my thighs, to get the lead out. I will try to "just get there." I'll start at one end, walk the main stretch, trek up a hill or two, follow a path through sea-oated dunes to an overlook or vista, and voila! The landscape or seascape is always a reward. Actually, any view along my walk rewards me, but when I come to a Point, well, that's like an exclamation point at the end of a statement.

And there is a lot of statement-making going on while I walk. Fortunately, with the increase of hands-free cell phones, I fear no embarrassment. Along with all the other crazed, self-talkers around, as out-loud as I want to be I can whimper, laugh, pout, yell, sing, cuss (although I'm not too good at that, but I could be if I wanted to). In other words, I do a lot of hashing it out as I walk. In therapeutic terms - I'm processing.

Processing on my own is helpful, but processing against something, against someone, is even better. Hitting a tennis ball over the net to empty space over and over again, may improve my serve, but at some point I need the volley. I need the feedback - the return comment that lets me know how I'm doing in real game terms. And this, (despite all the confusing religious, spiritualized, moralized, Christianized, Buddah/Hindu/Islam/Jewish-ized mumbo-jumbo), is why I like God.

I like the fact that He/She can be more than an idea or concept. That God can be, presence. That we can opt to experience Presence if we choose. And I need to choose that - a lot. I admit, that sometimes I'm smacking my statement-balls into dead space, but there are undeniable moments when conversation happens - a volley of thought; a volley of Presence. And when it does, this Presence is safe.

I can express anything I feel, any way I want - and Presence, sticks it out with me. In fact, the day I discovered that a Point was more than destination's reward, that it was a sanctuary, was a day of horrific arguing. I beat my fists against Presence's chest; yelled; exhausted every last ounce of rage I could muster and hurled it. And Presence, remained. Stayed within the conversation. Unsullied; undisturbed; calm; engaged. Walked the whole way with me....over a creek, up steep hills, past condos and cottages, over the boardwalks and paths, and onto a dune overlook. Sat down among the dunes with me - right next to me; Presence, as close as breath. And did not say a word, but as if stretching out an arm across the expanse of sea, bid me to see. And as I looked out, I felt drawn into Presence - like a warm embrace; arms drawing me closer into peace. And then Presence said, "It's ok, baby. Lean in. Rest."

And I did.
And I worshipped.