Oh Deborah! You open up an ocean in me! Tears. Looking back just to see how far we have come. Water. We are always meeting the world in a state of change, between spaces, between seasons and between dimensions. Water is our mirror. She takes on the shape of her container. Us. Head or heart. Love or fear. Body or soul. Water is always deeper than our own reflection. Meet you at the sea 🌊 ❤️
Jamie, your words ripple through me like tides themselves - deep, shifting, alive. Yes, we’re always in motion, flux, always meeting the world between spaces, seasons, selves. And water - she knows us better than we know ourselves, mirroring, holding, transforming. I love how you weave your truth so effortlessly. Yes, meet you at the sea, always - where tides turn, time drifts and souls rise with the waves. 🌊❤️
Just lovely and such a peaceful read. Calliope's poetic voice speaks through every line. She truly is your muse. This one is very meaningful to me. Thank you, Jeanie
Oh, Jeanie! It’s always lovely to see you here. Thank you so much for your love-filled reply! Writing on the beach was such a joy, I had to hunker down behind a groyne, as there was a bit of a breeze on the south coast Friday morning. But what inspiration lay before me! You’re obviously a water lover too, in every way. The Hermetic wisdom of "As above, so below, as within, so without, as the universe, so the soul." comes to mind.
Years ago, when I first became intimate with the wild shores of Lake Superior, I felt the soothing "shush, shush, shush, hush child" of the waves along the rocks. I knew then that though I was estranged from my human mother, I always belonged here, and felt as a child to the Lake.
What you describe here in your post is a deep and loving relationship with the living water, the sea and also yourself. As above, so below. As we love the earth, we love ourselves and vice versa.
This is so beautifully written, rhythmic and musical as the sea itself. "Surface and silence", diving deep, trusting. Allowing relationship with the changeable nature of the sea and the soul to lead you to your truest nature. Exquisite.
Susan, your soothing "shush, shush, shush, hush child" lullaby resonates so deeply, for I too felt like a child standing before her mother. You remind me how important it was for me to find other mothers in my life, and the sea has been one of mine for forty-four years now. I have always belonged here with her, with my soul.
Thank you so much for the gift of your kind-hearted, soulful words. Yesterday, after I got back from the beach, with the rhythm of her waves still echoing within me, I sat down to write some more - letting the sea’s voice and the layers of my soul guide my words, shaping this post like the tide shapes the shore.
Hi Deborah, Oooooh, how the sea offers us another mirror in her offer of acceptance and nurturing ... and offer, an anchor 🌊. This really resonates, the connection to the sea ... and connection to mother. I too find great solace in her embrace. I can smell and taste the sticky and briny sea air and feel the soothe of being weightless ... I have always loved the pull of the salt on my skin ... even now. Your writing is deeply evocative, with a grace and beauty, something tender and accepting — the photo. She, the sea, the mother of mothers, runs in our veins. Thank you ... from another water sign 🙏 🌊💜
Simone, your beautiful words flow like the tide itself - gentle, knowing, deeply felt. Indeed, the sea offers so much: a mirror, a refuge, a quiet guide through memory and belonging. And I love how you describe the salt’s pull -there’s something about that feeling, isn’t there? The way the sea imprints herself on us, just as we do on her. I feel that shared recognition in your response, from one water sign to another. Thank you so much for receiving my words so openly - our hearts carry the same rhythms. 🙏 🌊💜
Hi Deborah, Yes, Yes and Yes — I can conjure the sea and feel that rhythm in my body, I understand that water holds memory which is why she, the sea can hold every emotion we express with her. I also race and talk to the water sprites when I am riding or splashing in a wave🤣. Every reflection of sunlight on the water carries a water sprite, that's what I tell kids ... and adults 💙. Love to you. 🙏 🌊 🧚🏼♀️
That's so beautiful, Simone! I don’t know where I first heard this, but one day, as I stood at the water's edge, mesmerised by her sunlit sparkles, I thought to myself - ah, I'm witnessing the presence of the Divine Feminine. And if waves could smile, that is what was happening. A million water sprites! Yessss! 🙏 🌊🧚🏼♀️
I see the sea as the moon’s womb, the cycles and tides … that’s what that experience on Cave Beach was for me, and the whales 🐋… Wow. It was definitely a profound birthing of sorts for me, and the water sprites, well that is my inner child out to play … and l always respect her mood, her power, her force. And our tears taste of her 💙. She is our mother🙏🙏🌊
Mother Moon's womb, YESSSS! And yes, to our mother - for she has been a mother of sorts to me ever since I washed up here over forty years ago, aged eighteen. I felt motherless until we met. 🙏🌊
Life has given me many mothers in the form of trees, therapists, friends, the moon and strangers. I hope that makes a little sense. Wow, to the Great Mother whales! 💙🐋
You found it 😊 … your language is so lyrical 💙. Yes, many mothers, l totally relate to that … we hold each other and alternate roles, that’s how l have found my friendships with women, l have always had women friends from a wide age group. And nature, well she has always held steadfast for me as a Mother whose very character nurtures respectful boundaries. 😊💙🙏. So grateful for the connection Deborah, thank you. 🙏
Oh, so much nodding going on over here, and also a deep recognition that becoming a psychotherapist, was in my own way, becoming a 'mother of sorts' for many' and now it feels like I'm taking off my apron and becoming more of myself. 💙
Don't get me wrong I would've missed those 'mothering years' for the world. Thank you so much for sharing a glimpse of your journey Simone and your mother-loving heart. You seem surrounded by mother-loving- energy too! 💙
I understand Deborah. I started teaching when l was a baby, in 1988 - and having spent the majority of my career working with refugee and asylum seeking students, many without parents, l grew into a mother for many … despite choosing not to have my own children. It was my soul’s purpose to work with those students, l don’t regret a day of it. Now l get to exit with ease, as the Fairy Crone working 2 days a week. I still connect deeply with the kids l work with, though it is time to go. I count my blessings … learnt so much from working with such cohorts of diverse youth 🙏💙
Oh, I feel you deeply, Simone. What a journey, what a calling, to have given so much of ourselves to guiding and nurturing those who needed it most. The kind of mothering that isn’t bound by blood but by presence, care and unwavering love.
And now, as we both take off our metaphorical 'mother aprons', there’s such a tenderness in stepping back, in trusting that what we’ve given will carry forward in ways we may never fully see. I, too, feel the weight and grace of this transition - still deeply connected, yet knowing it is time. Hence, our gentle leave-taking as we move from 'role to soul'.
You count your blessings, and I'll count mine my friend, for all the lessons, the moments, the quiet exchanges of deep understanding. May this next chapter in our lives hold space for all that we have given and all that now unfolds. 💙🙏
Deborah, your poetic writing is so transporting—you are truly gifted.
"At eighteen, led by that unseen hand, I left everything I knew behind and moved to an old fishing town on the south coast, in search of an anchor I didn’t yet have a name for."
That line struck me deeply.
My Pisces Moon feels it all, especially as my mother, too, was a mythological being—dark-haired, a poet.
"As a child, I would often lose myself in a photograph of my mother at the beach – barefoot in the sand, her dark hair wild with the wind. She was smiling, radiant, carefree – a version I never knew, yet longed to understand. Caught mid-laugh with the waves, her joy felt inseparable from the water’s embrace. I didn’t realise then just how deeply that image had settled within me."
And this—this is simply stunning:
"Suspended in salt and silence, I surrendered to her embrace."
Such a beautiful post. You write with your mermaid tail and anchor your words in the hearts of those like me—those who long for the sea, for the infinite blue that endlessly gives, gives us all the life there is.
Thank you for being a writer of salt, sand, and sea—your ink.
Oh, what joy it is to dive into your reply, Katerina! This mermaid flips her tail in delight, basking in the warmth of your kind and generous words. It thrills me endlessly that my words resonate so deeply with you. As I’m sure you’ll understand, sometimes we craft a line that feels electric, alive, and for me, ‘suspended in salt and silence’ was one of those. 🌊🧜♀️
I love how we all influence each other here - your words, along with those from Sarah, Simone and Charles last week, about the sea, sparked something in me and my pen. I thought, “Yes, I must write about it.” Then, as if guided by synchronicity, I stumbled upon Jamie’s archived post yesterday about ‘brittlefish’ and of course, so much more. That’s when the thought struck me - Jung entered my life sideways, just like a crab, and all these ideas came together to swim into my little post about Jung today. 🦀🖊️
And then, there was your incredible ‘Sand’ post this morning - not just read, but absorbed with every fibre of my being. Once again, I felt that profound connection between us. What a beautiful dance this is, a tango of thoughts and souls. Long may it continue, ad infinitum. Thank you so much for sharing the soul's music and the heart's dance moves! 💃❤️
Yes, Deborah, I felt it too—the connection, our collective longing for the sea, the sand, flesh, soul, remembering, brittlefish. It seems we are all in a beautiful flow. And yes, I completely understand: “sometimes we craft a line that feels electric, alive, and for me, ‘suspended in salt and silence’ was one of those.” 🌊🧜♀️ Beautifully said!
Synchronicity and Jung go hand in hand—he must be proud of this little dance we've shared here, and the waves we love to swim in.
Thank you again for being in the golden dunes today, for seeing the beauty of my sandscape and the eternal cycle.
Katerina, your words are pure poetry - they carry such a deep sense of connection and beauty. It feels like we’ve all shared a moment of synchronicity this week, carried by the tides and whispers of the golden dunes. Thank you so much for your kindness and for inviting me into this space of soul, sea and eternal cycles. 🌊🧜♀️
Dear Deborah, the place where you currently live and where you grew up as a child was, and may still be, a dream destination for me. I remember that at the end of the 1970s, I sought a place by the Caspian Sea because I noticed Al was in distress over the situation in Iran at that time and was unable to write. I managed to find an apartment by the shore with the necessary amenities (drinking, eating) for him to write while I worked in Tehran at a full-time job. The outcome was his fifteen short stories and a foundation for his new novel. That coastal area always possesses a magical influence on imagination and creativity.
My dream, of course, awaits realisation in the next life, but I'll continue to dream!
Dear Aladin, your words carry such tenderness and longing, they feel like a postcard from the heart! It’s beautiful to hear how that coastal area near the Caspian Sea left such a magical imprint on your imagination and creativity. It’s clear it was more than just a place; it became a sanctuary for you and Al, where stories blossomed and a novel found its roots.
What an incredible gift you gave him, a space to write amidst the challenges of that time.
Dream destinations often have a way of staying with us, don’t they? Even if they remain just out of reach, they fill our minds with inspiration and hope. I love that you still carry this dream with you, cherishing the idea of returning in another life - it’s such a poetic way to keep it alive.
Thank you so much for sharing this lovely memory, it feels like stepping into your dream for a moment. Wishing you all the beauty and creativity you continue to dream of! And now I wonder, is this the same novel by Al that you sent me to read a few years back? I've loved it!
Thank you, my beloved angel, for your wise and calming words. Al wrote a novel in Persian before writing Season of Limbo, and this one (To the West by Southwest) was the one he finished when we escaped. I might try to translate it one day! Sending immense gratitude and love.🥰🦋❤️
Wow, three novels! Having read your brother Al's second novel, I'm sure the others are just as exceptional. Just a thought Aladin, in recent years Ai has evolved so much, I do wonder if this technology could help you translate from Persian (language) to English? There must be advanced software that can help you do this?
A friend of mine works as a translator for the Jung Centre in Zurich and while much of her work is run through Ai, she is unable to do this with poetry as nuances are obviously missed. Still, it might be a stepping stone for you, one to consider?
In other news, I hope you're keeping well, my dear friend, as I'm so that aware we're reaching the end of the month and you have, if I remember correctly, a very important event ahead. Sending you much love, light and hope. 🥰🦋❤️
Oh, yes, my dear. The AI would be a good idea, though Al had a very special poetry style in his Persian works; the nuances would be lost. However, it could greatly help to speed up the work.
Thank you so much for remembering my important event and for accompanying me with your thoughts. 🙏🤗❤️😘
Absolutely gorgeous post, Deborah! I too have felt the pull and answered the call of the sea and count my life on the Atlantic coast as some of the most profound, transformational, and nourishing years of my life.
"As the salt-laden breeze tangled in my hair, I felt something strange, deep, undeniable – a sense of belonging. It wasn’t just the water’s vast beauty – it was the pull, the invitation to listen, as though the sea was offering to share her secrets with me."
Oh yes!!
"Over time, the sea became my teacher, my anchor, my refuge. She mirrored my struggles in her storms and reminded me of peace in her stillness. She taught resilience – not through force, but through movement – urging me to trust life’s natural ebb and flow. More than a muse, she was alive – her heartbeat echoing through waves, where tides met depths."
Mine too...
We speak and think about Mother Earth..., like us, she is 70% water. 💗🙏 🎶 𓍢ִִ໋🌊🦈˚˖𓍢ִ
Oh Veronika, your beautiful response feels like the tide itself - gentle yet powerful, carrying deep understanding and resonance as you ebb and flow in words and wonder.
Thank you for sharing your connection to the Atlantic and the way the sea has shaped your journey too. It’s beautiful to know that we’ve both felt her pull, listened to her wisdom, and found refuge in her deep rhythms. One of my favourite things to do is to just float in the sea and allow myself to be held. A deep memory from life in my mother's womb, I'm sure.
And I love the thought of Mother Earth, like us, holding so much water - fluid, alive, speaking to us in her beautiful and turbulent waves. Your words are a gift, I’m so grateful for them.
Thank you so much for reading, feeling and reflecting on my story. May the living waters, above and below, within and without, continue to nourish you, always. 💗🙏 🎶🌊🦈
I love that feeling of floating on the ocean being held, being rocked from side to side, letting go. I grew up by and in the ocean and miss the vitality of the sea despite loving living in the mountains. Thank you for sharing this Deborah. 💙
Thank you so much for floating with me, Jo, for sharing the rhythm of the waves and my deep love of sea and soul. May their presence always live within you, wherever you are. 💙
Hahaha! Enjoy your island hopping (beer too!), Charles. It must be incredible up there at the moment. We’re heading up north later this year, can’t wait.
So beautiful and deeply moving to my heart and body. I wept with longing, too. I loved to swim as a child, but I can't swim now because of the cochlear implant. I can still wade at the beach at the lake near my home and enjoy watching boats sail the lake. I used to sail with my husband Vic (he was a Pisces), but I didn't have vertigo then. Vic's gone and vertigo arrived years later, but I have tender memories of sailing the morning winds with him.
I want to show this piece to Marion Woodman who loved the water, but we'll have to settle on the Marion in me who sinks into the symbolism of the watery world--and beautiful photos taken of the creatures who live under water. May we remember how precious they are.
Thank you for sharing your beautiful soul, Deborah. .
Dearest Elaine, your beautiful words washed ashore in the quiet places of my heart, stirring the deep waters of memory and longing. I can feel your love for swimming - the rhythm of the waves, the freedom of floating in a world both vast and intimate. Though swimming has changed for you, the lake still welcomes you, holding your presence as you wade and watch the boats sail by, their journeys mirroring those we hold within.
Your memories of sailing with your beloved Vic - those morning winds, those open horizons - paint such a tender, loving picture. I imagine those precious moments were filled with quiet communion, the kind that needs no words, only the movement of water and sky. Though time has reshaped many things, those cherished memories remain luminous, alive in your heart and soul.
Marion’s deep love for water lives on, I intuit, in those like yourself, who recognise its deep symbolism, its wisdom, its quiet power. You embody that devotion so beautifully, my dear friend - honouring the sacredness of those watery realms, the creatures within, and the unseen currents that forever shape our inner and outer lives.
May the waves whisper their truths to you always. May the lake always reflect the beauty both within and around you. And may memory be a soft tide, carrying you forward even as it cradles what once was.
Sending love and light across the oceans and oak tops between us, your forever poet friend.
There were moments of terror on the sailboat. It was a racing boat and if the wind was strong, it leaned far to one side or the other. Vic was a daring sailor and daring scholar. I was the timid one. We never capsized. May the water hold us.
Daring is such an attractive quality! A sailor and a scholar - what an incredible balance Vic carried, navigating both the sea and the mind with courage and insight. May those living waters, above and below, within and without, hold you always, carrying both memory and presence in their deep embrace.
Deborah this is beautiful. I've always needed to live close to water. When I was little I dreamed that the ocean was a blanket that tucked me in at night. Later I learned that my chart is a party in Pisces, forever a dreamer.
Thank you for walking us through your connection to the sea, it is so beautiful. 💞
Oh, I love the thought of the sea stretching out like an endless blanket, her soft top rippling under the moonlight. What a metaphor, what an image! If I didn't live beside the sea, I know there would be a river or lake close by, as water is my favourite element. Thank you for reading and swimming in my words and world, Maryellen. 💞
Yes, yes, yes, yes! Such a gorgeous love letter to the sea, Deborah, and so much I recognise in myself and my relationship to it (unsurprisingly my sun sign is Pisces). That soul tug towards the sea, where I can find myself in its stillness and eternity. I know it so well. ❤️
Ah, Sarah! Your inspiring post last week, along with our conversations about the water and how deeply it moves me, encouraged me to go sit on the beach and scribble in the sand.
As I sat there, I kept asking myself - where do the sea and the sea meet? And then, I found my answer: above the waves, below the surface. I was staring at that meeting place, caught in its quiet, endless rhythm.
I reached for my pen, and so this love letter began. Thank you for the inspiration. ❤️
I need to read that again. I am a water sign. The Celtic division of the world’s. The material one above water the spiritual one below. That is lovely writing.
Thank you so much for reading, Charles. Of course, I was divinely inspired by many prompts and gentle nudges this week, leading me to sit beside the sea on Friday morning. Your video was one such prompt - thank you.
Ah, another water sign! I’m sure there’s a little soul recognition between us merfolk. Well, a pirate in my case, as I discovered a few years ago through one of those DNA test results that my motherline traced itself back to the Sea Peoples. They even have a Wikipedia page. I'm wondering if that's why I like to keep the sea and horizon in my daily view as home may have been a boat for most of the year, not a house.
Back to sea and soul - indeed, it’s the Celtic division of the world.
I’m on the Orkney isles right now. Was swimming in sub 9c water on Saturday. It has become a thing when I come up here to teach and spend time with my tai chi friends. I could only swim a few strokes due to the intense pain in my arms caused by the cold. The tingle and buzz tho was wonderful. I love the isolation, tho Kirkwall is populous and I love the silence. I also love the Iranian brewed beer😁on my mind recently has been silence and water. In two weeks I’ll be on Tiree with it’s beautiful empty beaches and the silence of the breaking waves
That sounds incredible, Charles! There’s something so raw and exhilarating about swimming in water that cold, even if only for a few strokes. Silence and water have a way of weaving into the soul, don’t they?
Iranian-brewed beer? A delightful twist - I imagine it carries the essence of ancient grains with just a hint of rebellion. Nothing like a cold pint after braving icy waters to remind you that warmth is, in fact, overrated. 😆🍻
Your island-hopping adventures sound like the perfect way to sink deeper into sea and soul. May it be so.
😭😭🌊🧜♀️!!! This is absolutely stunning, Sis. Thank you for sharing it.
You wrote, "What draws me most to the living waters is their stillness. For even when the surface churns with storms, the soul’s silence meets the sea’s rhythms – untouched. Like any depths, diving into the soul takes courage – to face the buried and embrace the unknown." Mmmmm...I can't help but think about all the strange creatures of the depths and how, even though they are foreign to us land dwellers, they all possess some sort of magic that is their very own. Which is an apt description, as good as any, of the Soul.
I've always thought of the rhythm of Mother Ocean as her signature heartbeat. I believe, for some more than others, we seek her out simply to merge our heartbeat to hers, to come into a shared rhythm that is beyond our wildest dreams if we let it lead us. Within that, every day is a new experience, whether we float on the surface or we dive into our depths, we come back with a new treasure, we get to keep what we mine.
You might enjoy this song, that goes along with the picture you shared in your post.
Danielle, thank you so much for sharing Mary’s beautiful song. As I read your words again, I smiled, for they roll in like waves, deep, knowing, truthful. Indeed, the sea is more than water; she is rhythm, pulse, memory. We don’t just stand at her edge; we merge, surrender, listen.
As for those strange creatures of the depths, I love how they exist unseen yet wholly present. Isn’t that the way of the soul too? Unseen, yet entirely here too. We dive inward, never quite knowing what we’ll find, yet trusting that somewhere in the quiet, hidden treasure awaits.
And syncing our heartbeats with Mother Ocean, (oh my heart knows this joy!), I feel that union with her deeply. Some days we float, some days we dive, but always, we return from the sea and soul with something new, something carried in the language of tide and time.
The Soul is so quiet and deep and unknown. It has longings to be loud and floating and seen, but only for those with wide open hearts who can truly hear and receive the beautiful melody of the Soul's own magical rhythm.
This...this friendship, this merging and surrender of Souls who hold space in the depths for each other, whose hearts beat with that same rhythm...THIS is exactly the worship and message I needed on this beautiful day. Goddess, thank you for standing at the pulpit of my heart and speaking into it. XO
Oh Danielle, how you write with the hand of a poet! I can feel my heart, that giant wave, rise and meet yours on this page, screen, sea, soul, depth. May it be so. XO
Easter Blessings, Marisol. Thank you so much for the beauty and grace of your pen, which carries light and reflection in every word. Thank you for widening those ripples of sea and soul.
Oh Deborah! You open up an ocean in me! Tears. Looking back just to see how far we have come. Water. We are always meeting the world in a state of change, between spaces, between seasons and between dimensions. Water is our mirror. She takes on the shape of her container. Us. Head or heart. Love or fear. Body or soul. Water is always deeper than our own reflection. Meet you at the sea 🌊 ❤️
Jamie, your words ripple through me like tides themselves - deep, shifting, alive. Yes, we’re always in motion, flux, always meeting the world between spaces, seasons, selves. And water - she knows us better than we know ourselves, mirroring, holding, transforming. I love how you weave your truth so effortlessly. Yes, meet you at the sea, always - where tides turn, time drifts and souls rise with the waves. 🌊❤️
Just lovely and such a peaceful read. Calliope's poetic voice speaks through every line. She truly is your muse. This one is very meaningful to me. Thank you, Jeanie
Oh, Jeanie! It’s always lovely to see you here. Thank you so much for your love-filled reply! Writing on the beach was such a joy, I had to hunker down behind a groyne, as there was a bit of a breeze on the south coast Friday morning. But what inspiration lay before me! You’re obviously a water lover too, in every way. The Hermetic wisdom of "As above, so below, as within, so without, as the universe, so the soul." comes to mind.
Years ago, when I first became intimate with the wild shores of Lake Superior, I felt the soothing "shush, shush, shush, hush child" of the waves along the rocks. I knew then that though I was estranged from my human mother, I always belonged here, and felt as a child to the Lake.
What you describe here in your post is a deep and loving relationship with the living water, the sea and also yourself. As above, so below. As we love the earth, we love ourselves and vice versa.
This is so beautifully written, rhythmic and musical as the sea itself. "Surface and silence", diving deep, trusting. Allowing relationship with the changeable nature of the sea and the soul to lead you to your truest nature. Exquisite.
Susan, your soothing "shush, shush, shush, hush child" lullaby resonates so deeply, for I too felt like a child standing before her mother. You remind me how important it was for me to find other mothers in my life, and the sea has been one of mine for forty-four years now. I have always belonged here with her, with my soul.
Thank you so much for the gift of your kind-hearted, soulful words. Yesterday, after I got back from the beach, with the rhythm of her waves still echoing within me, I sat down to write some more - letting the sea’s voice and the layers of my soul guide my words, shaping this post like the tide shapes the shore.
Hi Deborah, Oooooh, how the sea offers us another mirror in her offer of acceptance and nurturing ... and offer, an anchor 🌊. This really resonates, the connection to the sea ... and connection to mother. I too find great solace in her embrace. I can smell and taste the sticky and briny sea air and feel the soothe of being weightless ... I have always loved the pull of the salt on my skin ... even now. Your writing is deeply evocative, with a grace and beauty, something tender and accepting — the photo. She, the sea, the mother of mothers, runs in our veins. Thank you ... from another water sign 🙏 🌊💜
Simone, your beautiful words flow like the tide itself - gentle, knowing, deeply felt. Indeed, the sea offers so much: a mirror, a refuge, a quiet guide through memory and belonging. And I love how you describe the salt’s pull -there’s something about that feeling, isn’t there? The way the sea imprints herself on us, just as we do on her. I feel that shared recognition in your response, from one water sign to another. Thank you so much for receiving my words so openly - our hearts carry the same rhythms. 🙏 🌊💜
Hi Deborah, Yes, Yes and Yes — I can conjure the sea and feel that rhythm in my body, I understand that water holds memory which is why she, the sea can hold every emotion we express with her. I also race and talk to the water sprites when I am riding or splashing in a wave🤣. Every reflection of sunlight on the water carries a water sprite, that's what I tell kids ... and adults 💙. Love to you. 🙏 🌊 🧚🏼♀️
That's so beautiful, Simone! I don’t know where I first heard this, but one day, as I stood at the water's edge, mesmerised by her sunlit sparkles, I thought to myself - ah, I'm witnessing the presence of the Divine Feminine. And if waves could smile, that is what was happening. A million water sprites! Yessss! 🙏 🌊🧚🏼♀️
Yes, she smiles to welcome us home. 💙 I sent another reply but l think l attached it to another thread on this post. I am on my iPad 🤦♀️😂
Lol, glad I'm not the only one that does that! I'll follow the waves until I land on shore! 💙😂
💙🙏
I see the sea as the moon’s womb, the cycles and tides … that’s what that experience on Cave Beach was for me, and the whales 🐋… Wow. It was definitely a profound birthing of sorts for me, and the water sprites, well that is my inner child out to play … and l always respect her mood, her power, her force. And our tears taste of her 💙. She is our mother🙏🙏🌊
Mother Moon's womb, YESSSS! And yes, to our mother - for she has been a mother of sorts to me ever since I washed up here over forty years ago, aged eighteen. I felt motherless until we met. 🙏🌊
Life has given me many mothers in the form of trees, therapists, friends, the moon and strangers. I hope that makes a little sense. Wow, to the Great Mother whales! 💙🐋
You found it 😊 … your language is so lyrical 💙. Yes, many mothers, l totally relate to that … we hold each other and alternate roles, that’s how l have found my friendships with women, l have always had women friends from a wide age group. And nature, well she has always held steadfast for me as a Mother whose very character nurtures respectful boundaries. 😊💙🙏. So grateful for the connection Deborah, thank you. 🙏
Oh, so much nodding going on over here, and also a deep recognition that becoming a psychotherapist, was in my own way, becoming a 'mother of sorts' for many' and now it feels like I'm taking off my apron and becoming more of myself. 💙
Don't get me wrong I would've missed those 'mothering years' for the world. Thank you so much for sharing a glimpse of your journey Simone and your mother-loving heart. You seem surrounded by mother-loving- energy too! 💙
I understand Deborah. I started teaching when l was a baby, in 1988 - and having spent the majority of my career working with refugee and asylum seeking students, many without parents, l grew into a mother for many … despite choosing not to have my own children. It was my soul’s purpose to work with those students, l don’t regret a day of it. Now l get to exit with ease, as the Fairy Crone working 2 days a week. I still connect deeply with the kids l work with, though it is time to go. I count my blessings … learnt so much from working with such cohorts of diverse youth 🙏💙
Oh, I feel you deeply, Simone. What a journey, what a calling, to have given so much of ourselves to guiding and nurturing those who needed it most. The kind of mothering that isn’t bound by blood but by presence, care and unwavering love.
And now, as we both take off our metaphorical 'mother aprons', there’s such a tenderness in stepping back, in trusting that what we’ve given will carry forward in ways we may never fully see. I, too, feel the weight and grace of this transition - still deeply connected, yet knowing it is time. Hence, our gentle leave-taking as we move from 'role to soul'.
You count your blessings, and I'll count mine my friend, for all the lessons, the moments, the quiet exchanges of deep understanding. May this next chapter in our lives hold space for all that we have given and all that now unfolds. 💙🙏
Deborah, your poetic writing is so transporting—you are truly gifted.
"At eighteen, led by that unseen hand, I left everything I knew behind and moved to an old fishing town on the south coast, in search of an anchor I didn’t yet have a name for."
That line struck me deeply.
My Pisces Moon feels it all, especially as my mother, too, was a mythological being—dark-haired, a poet.
"As a child, I would often lose myself in a photograph of my mother at the beach – barefoot in the sand, her dark hair wild with the wind. She was smiling, radiant, carefree – a version I never knew, yet longed to understand. Caught mid-laugh with the waves, her joy felt inseparable from the water’s embrace. I didn’t realise then just how deeply that image had settled within me."
And this—this is simply stunning:
"Suspended in salt and silence, I surrendered to her embrace."
Such a beautiful post. You write with your mermaid tail and anchor your words in the hearts of those like me—those who long for the sea, for the infinite blue that endlessly gives, gives us all the life there is.
Thank you for being a writer of salt, sand, and sea—your ink.
Oh, what joy it is to dive into your reply, Katerina! This mermaid flips her tail in delight, basking in the warmth of your kind and generous words. It thrills me endlessly that my words resonate so deeply with you. As I’m sure you’ll understand, sometimes we craft a line that feels electric, alive, and for me, ‘suspended in salt and silence’ was one of those. 🌊🧜♀️
I love how we all influence each other here - your words, along with those from Sarah, Simone and Charles last week, about the sea, sparked something in me and my pen. I thought, “Yes, I must write about it.” Then, as if guided by synchronicity, I stumbled upon Jamie’s archived post yesterday about ‘brittlefish’ and of course, so much more. That’s when the thought struck me - Jung entered my life sideways, just like a crab, and all these ideas came together to swim into my little post about Jung today. 🦀🖊️
And then, there was your incredible ‘Sand’ post this morning - not just read, but absorbed with every fibre of my being. Once again, I felt that profound connection between us. What a beautiful dance this is, a tango of thoughts and souls. Long may it continue, ad infinitum. Thank you so much for sharing the soul's music and the heart's dance moves! 💃❤️
Yes, Deborah, I felt it too—the connection, our collective longing for the sea, the sand, flesh, soul, remembering, brittlefish. It seems we are all in a beautiful flow. And yes, I completely understand: “sometimes we craft a line that feels electric, alive, and for me, ‘suspended in salt and silence’ was one of those.” 🌊🧜♀️ Beautifully said!
Synchronicity and Jung go hand in hand—he must be proud of this little dance we've shared here, and the waves we love to swim in.
Thank you again for being in the golden dunes today, for seeing the beauty of my sandscape and the eternal cycle.
Katerina, your words are pure poetry - they carry such a deep sense of connection and beauty. It feels like we’ve all shared a moment of synchronicity this week, carried by the tides and whispers of the golden dunes. Thank you so much for your kindness and for inviting me into this space of soul, sea and eternal cycles. 🌊🧜♀️
Dear Deborah, the place where you currently live and where you grew up as a child was, and may still be, a dream destination for me. I remember that at the end of the 1970s, I sought a place by the Caspian Sea because I noticed Al was in distress over the situation in Iran at that time and was unable to write. I managed to find an apartment by the shore with the necessary amenities (drinking, eating) for him to write while I worked in Tehran at a full-time job. The outcome was his fifteen short stories and a foundation for his new novel. That coastal area always possesses a magical influence on imagination and creativity.
My dream, of course, awaits realisation in the next life, but I'll continue to dream!
Sincerely yours, Aladin.
Dear Aladin, your words carry such tenderness and longing, they feel like a postcard from the heart! It’s beautiful to hear how that coastal area near the Caspian Sea left such a magical imprint on your imagination and creativity. It’s clear it was more than just a place; it became a sanctuary for you and Al, where stories blossomed and a novel found its roots.
What an incredible gift you gave him, a space to write amidst the challenges of that time.
Dream destinations often have a way of staying with us, don’t they? Even if they remain just out of reach, they fill our minds with inspiration and hope. I love that you still carry this dream with you, cherishing the idea of returning in another life - it’s such a poetic way to keep it alive.
Thank you so much for sharing this lovely memory, it feels like stepping into your dream for a moment. Wishing you all the beauty and creativity you continue to dream of! And now I wonder, is this the same novel by Al that you sent me to read a few years back? I've loved it!
Thank you, my beloved angel, for your wise and calming words. Al wrote a novel in Persian before writing Season of Limbo, and this one (To the West by Southwest) was the one he finished when we escaped. I might try to translate it one day! Sending immense gratitude and love.🥰🦋❤️
Wow, three novels! Having read your brother Al's second novel, I'm sure the others are just as exceptional. Just a thought Aladin, in recent years Ai has evolved so much, I do wonder if this technology could help you translate from Persian (language) to English? There must be advanced software that can help you do this?
A friend of mine works as a translator for the Jung Centre in Zurich and while much of her work is run through Ai, she is unable to do this with poetry as nuances are obviously missed. Still, it might be a stepping stone for you, one to consider?
In other news, I hope you're keeping well, my dear friend, as I'm so that aware we're reaching the end of the month and you have, if I remember correctly, a very important event ahead. Sending you much love, light and hope. 🥰🦋❤️
Oh, yes, my dear. The AI would be a good idea, though Al had a very special poetry style in his Persian works; the nuances would be lost. However, it could greatly help to speed up the work.
Thank you so much for remembering my important event and for accompanying me with your thoughts. 🙏🤗❤️😘
Absolutely gorgeous post, Deborah! I too have felt the pull and answered the call of the sea and count my life on the Atlantic coast as some of the most profound, transformational, and nourishing years of my life.
"As the salt-laden breeze tangled in my hair, I felt something strange, deep, undeniable – a sense of belonging. It wasn’t just the water’s vast beauty – it was the pull, the invitation to listen, as though the sea was offering to share her secrets with me."
Oh yes!!
"Over time, the sea became my teacher, my anchor, my refuge. She mirrored my struggles in her storms and reminded me of peace in her stillness. She taught resilience – not through force, but through movement – urging me to trust life’s natural ebb and flow. More than a muse, she was alive – her heartbeat echoing through waves, where tides met depths."
Mine too...
We speak and think about Mother Earth..., like us, she is 70% water. 💗🙏 🎶 𓍢ִִ໋🌊🦈˚˖𓍢ִ
Oh Veronika, your beautiful response feels like the tide itself - gentle yet powerful, carrying deep understanding and resonance as you ebb and flow in words and wonder.
Thank you for sharing your connection to the Atlantic and the way the sea has shaped your journey too. It’s beautiful to know that we’ve both felt her pull, listened to her wisdom, and found refuge in her deep rhythms. One of my favourite things to do is to just float in the sea and allow myself to be held. A deep memory from life in my mother's womb, I'm sure.
And I love the thought of Mother Earth, like us, holding so much water - fluid, alive, speaking to us in her beautiful and turbulent waves. Your words are a gift, I’m so grateful for them.
Thank you so much for reading, feeling and reflecting on my story. May the living waters, above and below, within and without, continue to nourish you, always. 💗🙏 🎶🌊🦈
I love that feeling of floating on the ocean being held, being rocked from side to side, letting go. I grew up by and in the ocean and miss the vitality of the sea despite loving living in the mountains. Thank you for sharing this Deborah. 💙
Thank you so much for floating with me, Jo, for sharing the rhythm of the waves and my deep love of sea and soul. May their presence always live within you, wherever you are. 💙
And water is of course used to describe the art I teach
Ah, Charles, so you're a water baby at heart too. 💙
I am one with the watercourse way 🤣😂😁
Lol, I'm not surprised after all that beer! 😁
On holiday and only if it’s ‘proper’ beer
Hahaha! Enjoy your island hopping (beer too!), Charles. It must be incredible up there at the moment. We’re heading up north later this year, can’t wait.
Tiree in two weeks. Then Canna at end May then the outer isles for Most of June then mull then Coll finishing up on tiree again sometime in September
So beautiful and deeply moving to my heart and body. I wept with longing, too. I loved to swim as a child, but I can't swim now because of the cochlear implant. I can still wade at the beach at the lake near my home and enjoy watching boats sail the lake. I used to sail with my husband Vic (he was a Pisces), but I didn't have vertigo then. Vic's gone and vertigo arrived years later, but I have tender memories of sailing the morning winds with him.
I want to show this piece to Marion Woodman who loved the water, but we'll have to settle on the Marion in me who sinks into the symbolism of the watery world--and beautiful photos taken of the creatures who live under water. May we remember how precious they are.
Thank you for sharing your beautiful soul, Deborah. .
Dearest Elaine, your beautiful words washed ashore in the quiet places of my heart, stirring the deep waters of memory and longing. I can feel your love for swimming - the rhythm of the waves, the freedom of floating in a world both vast and intimate. Though swimming has changed for you, the lake still welcomes you, holding your presence as you wade and watch the boats sail by, their journeys mirroring those we hold within.
Your memories of sailing with your beloved Vic - those morning winds, those open horizons - paint such a tender, loving picture. I imagine those precious moments were filled with quiet communion, the kind that needs no words, only the movement of water and sky. Though time has reshaped many things, those cherished memories remain luminous, alive in your heart and soul.
Marion’s deep love for water lives on, I intuit, in those like yourself, who recognise its deep symbolism, its wisdom, its quiet power. You embody that devotion so beautifully, my dear friend - honouring the sacredness of those watery realms, the creatures within, and the unseen currents that forever shape our inner and outer lives.
May the waves whisper their truths to you always. May the lake always reflect the beauty both within and around you. And may memory be a soft tide, carrying you forward even as it cradles what once was.
Sending love and light across the oceans and oak tops between us, your forever poet friend.
There were moments of terror on the sailboat. It was a racing boat and if the wind was strong, it leaned far to one side or the other. Vic was a daring sailor and daring scholar. I was the timid one. We never capsized. May the water hold us.
Daring is such an attractive quality! A sailor and a scholar - what an incredible balance Vic carried, navigating both the sea and the mind with courage and insight. May those living waters, above and below, within and without, hold you always, carrying both memory and presence in their deep embrace.
Deborah this is beautiful. I've always needed to live close to water. When I was little I dreamed that the ocean was a blanket that tucked me in at night. Later I learned that my chart is a party in Pisces, forever a dreamer.
Thank you for walking us through your connection to the sea, it is so beautiful. 💞
Oh, I love the thought of the sea stretching out like an endless blanket, her soft top rippling under the moonlight. What a metaphor, what an image! If I didn't live beside the sea, I know there would be a river or lake close by, as water is my favourite element. Thank you for reading and swimming in my words and world, Maryellen. 💞
Yes, yes, yes, yes! Such a gorgeous love letter to the sea, Deborah, and so much I recognise in myself and my relationship to it (unsurprisingly my sun sign is Pisces). That soul tug towards the sea, where I can find myself in its stillness and eternity. I know it so well. ❤️
Ah, Sarah! Your inspiring post last week, along with our conversations about the water and how deeply it moves me, encouraged me to go sit on the beach and scribble in the sand.
As I sat there, I kept asking myself - where do the sea and the sea meet? And then, I found my answer: above the waves, below the surface. I was staring at that meeting place, caught in its quiet, endless rhythm.
I reached for my pen, and so this love letter began. Thank you for the inspiration. ❤️
Just wonderful ❤️🌊
Many thanks Amanda. I was divinely inspired! ❤️🌊
I need to read that again. I am a water sign. The Celtic division of the world’s. The material one above water the spiritual one below. That is lovely writing.
Thank you so much for reading, Charles. Of course, I was divinely inspired by many prompts and gentle nudges this week, leading me to sit beside the sea on Friday morning. Your video was one such prompt - thank you.
Ah, another water sign! I’m sure there’s a little soul recognition between us merfolk. Well, a pirate in my case, as I discovered a few years ago through one of those DNA test results that my motherline traced itself back to the Sea Peoples. They even have a Wikipedia page. I'm wondering if that's why I like to keep the sea and horizon in my daily view as home may have been a boat for most of the year, not a house.
Back to sea and soul - indeed, it’s the Celtic division of the world.
I’m on the Orkney isles right now. Was swimming in sub 9c water on Saturday. It has become a thing when I come up here to teach and spend time with my tai chi friends. I could only swim a few strokes due to the intense pain in my arms caused by the cold. The tingle and buzz tho was wonderful. I love the isolation, tho Kirkwall is populous and I love the silence. I also love the Iranian brewed beer😁on my mind recently has been silence and water. In two weeks I’ll be on Tiree with it’s beautiful empty beaches and the silence of the breaking waves
That sounds incredible, Charles! There’s something so raw and exhilarating about swimming in water that cold, even if only for a few strokes. Silence and water have a way of weaving into the soul, don’t they?
Iranian-brewed beer? A delightful twist - I imagine it carries the essence of ancient grains with just a hint of rebellion. Nothing like a cold pint after braving icy waters to remind you that warmth is, in fact, overrated. 😆🍻
Your island-hopping adventures sound like the perfect way to sink deeper into sea and soul. May it be so.
The hand pulled beers are lovely. The ancient grain peculiar to the islands is bere barley.
Mmmm, sounds delicious! Cheers to good taste! 🍻
Orkney brewed. Me my attention span and predictive text.
Hahaha! Thanks for the giggle! 😆🍻
😭😭🌊🧜♀️!!! This is absolutely stunning, Sis. Thank you for sharing it.
You wrote, "What draws me most to the living waters is their stillness. For even when the surface churns with storms, the soul’s silence meets the sea’s rhythms – untouched. Like any depths, diving into the soul takes courage – to face the buried and embrace the unknown." Mmmmm...I can't help but think about all the strange creatures of the depths and how, even though they are foreign to us land dwellers, they all possess some sort of magic that is their very own. Which is an apt description, as good as any, of the Soul.
I've always thought of the rhythm of Mother Ocean as her signature heartbeat. I believe, for some more than others, we seek her out simply to merge our heartbeat to hers, to come into a shared rhythm that is beyond our wildest dreams if we let it lead us. Within that, every day is a new experience, whether we float on the surface or we dive into our depths, we come back with a new treasure, we get to keep what we mine.
You might enjoy this song, that goes along with the picture you shared in your post.
https://youtu.be/jDQU6mOJX7I?si=An62HnUu1gMpljsU. XO
Danielle, thank you so much for sharing Mary’s beautiful song. As I read your words again, I smiled, for they roll in like waves, deep, knowing, truthful. Indeed, the sea is more than water; she is rhythm, pulse, memory. We don’t just stand at her edge; we merge, surrender, listen.
As for those strange creatures of the depths, I love how they exist unseen yet wholly present. Isn’t that the way of the soul too? Unseen, yet entirely here too. We dive inward, never quite knowing what we’ll find, yet trusting that somewhere in the quiet, hidden treasure awaits.
And syncing our heartbeats with Mother Ocean, (oh my heart knows this joy!), I feel that union with her deeply. Some days we float, some days we dive, but always, we return from the sea and soul with something new, something carried in the language of tide and time.
Okay. I am outright crying now!!!
The Soul is so quiet and deep and unknown. It has longings to be loud and floating and seen, but only for those with wide open hearts who can truly hear and receive the beautiful melody of the Soul's own magical rhythm.
This...this friendship, this merging and surrender of Souls who hold space in the depths for each other, whose hearts beat with that same rhythm...THIS is exactly the worship and message I needed on this beautiful day. Goddess, thank you for standing at the pulpit of my heart and speaking into it. XO
Oh Danielle, how you write with the hand of a poet! I can feel my heart, that giant wave, rise and meet yours on this page, screen, sea, soul, depth. May it be so. XO
To find soul in soil,
in ocean’s blues, depths, tides, shore,
in wild winged wind soar!
Easter Blessings, Marisol. Thank you so much for the beauty and grace of your pen, which carries light and reflection in every word. Thank you for widening those ripples of sea and soul.