I’m back from 24 hours at the North Sea. Thank you Bruno van den Elshout, Helen Hartmann, Lars Doyer and the other 20 souls that made up our group of horizon observers. It has been all to me.
This is for you 
If you want to learn more about Bruno’s work, visit http://www.newhorizonsahead.nl/
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24 HOURS
Through the dunes we set foot.
Towards the sea, on wet send, unfolding.
24
Deck chairs forming a line.
Along the high tide.
I come with no purpose. No question. But a deep yearning to be lost in time.
No phone. No camera, books, music, paper, pen.
Being present.
Present with what is for one full night and one full day.
Timeless.
Sit. Swim. Eat. Breathe. Move. Look. Doze. Walk. Observe.
Moments that will be forever engraved in my memory:
Helen swimming in the golden evening light.
A confused swan dancing along with the waves.
Millions of jellyfish and tiny fish brushing my arms and legs.
One happy dog with sun glasses.
So many dogs.
Starfish.
Sunset swim.
Break of dawn swim.
All the swims.
The sun falling into the ocean. Who ordered so much beauty?
Red crescent moon.
The tides playing with our toes.
The fishing ships, so loud at night.
It is never really dark.
And then, the night falls quiet.
Just you and me.
Your deep exhale and my quiet answer.
A shooting star travels across the sky.
It has all the time in the world.
Great Bear waltzing.
Fading in and out of grey and green dreams.
Phosphorescent waves.
The ocean glows, rolling phosphorescent waves. Is this happening?
For hours, spectacular.
Feeling held by the dark embrace of the night. The wind stroking my cheeks as I walk along the black stones leading out to the sea at low tide.
The crackling fire keeps toes warm. And hearts light.
Community. Companionship.
No need to speak.
Sunlight brings space.
For deep conversations.
Light laughter.
A flock of birds.
Flap, flap.
They know.
Perspective. Open space.
Close up. Alive.
From the fire. Quiet and still.
From the sea. We become the horizon.
The deep exhale of the waves.
Playing, tumbling over the shore.
Sighs of deep pleasure and joy.
All thoughts go out into the sea.
I am at peace. Nothing else I need.
No missing. No yearning.
No striving. No wanting.
I am forever grateful. For what seems, as Sarah puts it so beautifully, “the last day of the year.”
I slowly descend from the dunes, my cheeks glowing, light hearted.
From a journey oh so short.
Until we meet again.
Tomorrow.
