The magical cove

A new storm system has emerged from the South, and cool breezes roll up the Atlantic coast, softening the grip of the incessant summer sun.  A blanket of rolling tropical storm clouds is painted across the horizon, intense in density and presence, yet light with shining white, cast billowing across the blue sky above.  Silhouettes of Albatross streak the backdrop of sky painted with clouds of snow.  Far into the distance the sea birds find the doorway to peace.  

 Today, deep within meditation, I felt a shift just as the first moments of the sun began to rise over the dark horizon.  The sun came leaking an orange glow through the pillows of clouds, which in turn, twisted the light into an array or orange and red, brilliantly lighting fire to the fleeing night.   I could feel the light emerge within myself.  I could sense a pillar of radiant blue luminescense pouring from the sky, straight through the top of my skull, down through the cortex, swirling into my medulla oblongata.  A portal from the clouds creating a column of light that spun around my spine, reaching all the vertebrate showering them with new found life.  I exulted in the feeling, a feeling of being truly alive.  I allowed the light to wrap back up my spinal cord, hitting the place where my vertebrate had been violently broken in the cervical spine.  I felt new neural connections emerge and cells dance with life.  Light expanded in every direction, the light reached out in the far horizon of the sea.  I could feeling the blue tower of light rising beyond my third eye  center.  It moved out into the realm of clouds and dreams, out into the distance.  I calmly opened my eyes as my twenty five minute meditation came to end.  

Down the beach I can see the magic cove.  In the cove I can feel dreams being created and manifested, I can feel the transition start to take place. The surface of the sea is glittering with sunlight, and the emerald green water is protected by the headland made of grey slabs of stone.  Where the sand ends, the stones spill out in the sea, sweeping in a horseshoe shaped bay, intimate enough to swim across in fifteen to twenty minutes.  Tucked in the corner of the miniature bay is a tiny beach, fifteen meters wide, protected from wind, harnessing the sun rays streaking from the southern clouds.  Just beyond the end of the rock wall, as the cove ends and the ocean finds its depth, the sea turtles swim and drift.  The turtles know the same secret as the Albatros, and with the secret within, they languidly roll with the currents, letting the tides guide their day spent by the coast.  They stay close to the rocks, searching for patches of algae fresh with chlorophyll, drinking in the light to sustain search and swim.  Last week I saw a sea turtle rise to breach the surface, its head rose above the water and its mouth opened wide to gulp the fresh air.  In an arching motion its head submerged and its shell was revealed to the sky, all its ancient intricacy suspended in an instant before my eyes.  All the visual information cascaded around my mind like a rushing waterfall, and back down in the sea she went, innocently drifting below the surface towards the magic cove.  

Here in my hiding place, I can look upon the appallingly vast ocean and feel protected in my cozy green realm of imagination.  The destination lies somewhere far into that distance, and the journey is hidden with me inside the tiny bay.  I can feel all the darkness has left me now, the last bits that crawled around my mind expelled by the light that now embodies my being.  In the magic cove I find the map.  I can feel the birds sweet songs, and hear the rumple of water pouring from above.