Retreat

I am longing for my rocky seat, my 'horst'. 

To reach that special place I have to climb through the rough woodsy twigs of purple heath, leaving the sparse and lonesome trees behind me.

As I get closer to the summit, the howling wind of the moorland is giving way to the steady heartbeat of the ocean. It  already has sent out it’s smell to guide me.

My rock protrudes high over the sandy beach granting a rich view over the  ocean. The rock is my throne, the ocean is my spouse, whispering words of wisdom to me.

I am a king and I’ve come to this throne to overlook my world, my life. I fight for those  who are in it, but now  I need to look at  them all from a distance. For I am tired of doing battle and falling back.
The throne, not a symbol of power, but a divine seat, a place for wisdom, is the best place for a retreat.

The purple heath is the robe I let slip off my back.  I am vulnerable now, small and defenseless. I let the rain soak me to the bone, the salt remove the sweetness of my lips.  I let the crying of the wind unnerve my spirit. The drone and clatter of the waves drowse me into numbness .  The storm may shake me, push me to the edge, the cold cuts off my breath.  I will not go for cover.

Because I know these are the rough bejewelled  gifts of Nature, the full range of emotions that come with Life. They are full of power, but I shall not fear them. They may move me, impress me or even leave a mark. But they do not change me. I know that I will walk away from my throne as Me. Enlightened. Encouraged to rule my world again. 

Jo