Long time, no blog – so sorry loyal readers.

It is a difficult cycle; a lot of choices; for you, too, I am certain.

Just returned from Alabama; a few days inland, and a few days on the Gulf Coast. Let me tell you – when oil hits the shores of the Gulf Coast, it will be a crying, criminal shame. Those are some pristine white beaches. We were in Orange Beach, Alabama — lots of natural grasses, birds, dolphins, fish; no big, invasive boardwalk. It’s not an East Coast beach, to the extent I even know what I’m talking about. But seriously; when the oil comes – harm will come to people, to businesses – to entire ways of living. The true tragedy is that LIFE will be suffocated, on every level.

We were on a family trip; most of my family had no interest in the actual beach. We were at a lovely, upscale resort; several pools, hot tubs, saunas – one of those floaty “lazy river” things – it was a take your cooler, spend the day type of place.

We had to take a special shuttle to even reach the beach area; serious, over-a-mile pilgrimage-if-you- walked; even with the little resort shuttle, it was a LONG walk down a wooden bridge, and even longer to the shore.

Our first day on the actual beach, we arrived mid-morning; at most a dozen other humans in sight; fine, white sandy beaches. A big drop off from the flat “hang-out” area of the beach into the “up to your knees” area of the water. There was like a shelf – and it was filled with seashells. Handfuls of shells, whole-perfect and beautiful shells; it felt so magical.

Our regular beach is Virginia Beach – a family beach, a commercial beach – truth be told there would be no beach except they dredge it up every few weeks and plunk more sand on the shore. It is lovely, clean, fun – but so different from this little area of the Gulf Coast.

We dropped our snacks and towels and walked into the beautiful blue-green ocean – calm current, a small little shelf loaded with shells. The occasional small school of fish; these interesting clam-like creatures that washed up on the shore and then uprighted themselves and disappeared into the sand.

My daughter brought me a small, pure black spiral shell. My very favorite – I love the spiral, a representation of the Universe. I pondered it’s perfection; the smallness; the very perfect pointed tip, unbroken by the strength of the water. But as I looked, a small, black something emerged – only slightly – clam looking, nothing with eyes, but yet alive.

I called her back and showed my daughter “Look – it’s beautiful, but it is still someone’s home.” There was no hesitation. “Oh, I will take it back” she said. And she quickly took it from my hands, and tossed it as far into the ocean as she could.

We, as a society, have not done right by the waters or by the inhabitants of this planet that cannot speak. But this child, she intuitively does the right thing. It gives me hope in the face of unspeakable destruction.

What can we do now? You and me – thousands of miles from this disaster, feeling helpless and hindered – no way to fix or change? What can WE do?

We can pray; we can meditate. We can send blessings to the Mother Earth and to the very floor of the oceans; we can ask the oil to recede; we can ask the wildlife to be blessed and spared. Never underestimate the power of your intention; never underestimate the power of your prayer.

You are powerful beyond your imagination; if enough of us think it true, and it shall be.



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