July 17, 2019, Doolin, Co. Clare, Ireland
It is power you can fight. Stand up against it. Firm. But it fights too, incessantly. Smacking at the door of your senses, restless. It can overwhelm with its energy and might. But if you stand ashore, firm on the rocks, poised with your feet sturdy, soften your shoulders and untuck your hands you can let the icy Atlantic wind whip around you and you become part of it. Let your energy fly, let its energy fill you. I stand on my rocks, battered by winds willing the waves to continue their course, crashing relentlessly in to the land. The cliffs are my focus.
My blood becomes the salty air and once again I'm one with what I've always shared. There's power here. Ancient. I feel it. I know it. We're friends but I don't know how. Salt coats my skin, the elements carve away at me as if I'm no less than the ancient rock I stand on.
Doolin, Co. Clare -S.S.