Written on March 25, 2018, next to the Mediterranean Sea in Netanya, Israel.

Breathe in

Breathe out

I was sorry to leave you last time all grayish and wettish.  Today, when I saw the sun and the bluegreen of your water and the solid blue of the sky, I felt happy to think of saying goodbye to a more normal you.  You see, I’ll be away a long time now — maybe forever.

But, being close to you today, I can tell you are all riled up.  The sun is warm, but the wind is strong and cold.

Are you telling me we need to accept what we cannot change, what we cannot control?  Perhaps, but that’s probably anthropomorphizing  just a bit too much by putting meaning where there is only chance.

Your voice is strong today too as the white waves roll in.  No delicacy in you today.  Is there some message in that?  Prepare for the unpredictable maybe?  Or, are you just pleasing yourself and not caring about connecting?

Ah, you are most likely simply responding to subtleties in nature I have no understanding of.

Just be you, and I’ll appreciate you as you are and thank you anyway for being with me these past 3 months.  For sure I’ll miss you, but not expect you to miss me.  We are kin, but we are not one.

While I walk, I wonder why the noise of the sea soothes me, but the noise of a crying child or a motor bike revving up drives me nuts.

Then, as I pondered why I am so sure there is a mind/body connection, and less clear about communication between humans and nature, chance brought a friend onto the same path by the sea as I was on.

We sat by you for quite a long time, watching the sunset and animatedly discussing a wide range of topics.  You faded into an accompaniment to two humans speaking the same language enjoying being together by the sea.  Diversity between humans and nature has beauty, but so does warm conversation between two humans, accompanied by nature.

Breathe in

Breathe out



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