afire with god

I am alive.  Life is coursing through me.  i am awake and tingly to the life around me.  i love it here.  Life is thick and electric here.  it’s powerful.  It fills me joy.  I revel in it.  I imagine living here.  would i feel this way all the time or would i revert to my sleep walking kind of life?

We just came back from 3 hours at the beach.   

Shawn surfed and we explored.  i shot a lot.  I was shot happy.  But my eyes take the best pictures of all.  I wish  they could spit out albums of what i saw.

Amy was worried that we would have to wait for shawn but in the end he was waiting for us. The weather was delightfully west coast.  It alternated between rain, sun, snow, sun, snow and then sun again. We  walked along beach and climbed rocks with waves crashing in around us.  I took off my socks and shoes and stood in the middle of an icy stream as amy ran and leaped back and forth until i was satisfied with the shot.  “you’re a real west coast girl” amy commented as i sat on the wet rock peeling off my socks.  “yes i am.” I said and i smiled to myself.  I’m a west coast girl!  I really am!

We walked down  muddy paths carpeted with red needles and overgrown with bright green salal.  To me the colours of the west coast are bright mossy green, red cedar, muddy brown and all shades of blue.

we walked along bouncy boardwalks slick with slush and up rocky bluffs with the sea crashing below.  I stabbed my hand on poky wood and lay in puddles as i captured amy in every different light and position. I feel like i belong in a place like this.  It’s like i walk out into the wonder that is this place and my soul unfolds from the dark corner it’s been sleeping in and wings out like a sail in full wind.

I told amy that if i lived on the island i would be visiting her all the time.  This house is lovely too.  It smells like my cedar lined hope chest.  The wood is all reddish and all the doors are windows and all the windows and doors let in the greenish light of the lush forest.  My own room has a window door leading onto the deck and at this very minute is filled with the reddish green light.

If i lived could i stand the continual barrage of bliss?  I think my creative juices would tsunami. Just look at the violent passions of this post for an indication.

In my room, the ‘guest room’, is a book called chasing clayoquot by david pitt-brooke.  It’s a wilderness almanac and i was leafing through it this morning.  It starts with a dedication and a quote by Elizabeth barret browning “Earth’s crammed with heaven and every common bush afire with God.”  This is how i feel.