High tide in February

Sometimes life is a rockpool. Still and quiet and full of life. Its purpose defined.

All will be well.

But sometimes life is a high tide in February. Grey and dirty and roughed up.

And still, somehow, all will be well.

Sometimes life is a winter’s wind. Relentless, direction-changing, hair-raising.

And still, unbelievably, all will be well.

Sometimes I choose to shut myself away in the safety and warmth of the bothy, protecting myself from the onslaught.

Sometimes I step outside, wrap myself in layers and let the wind and the salt spray leave a reminder on my skin.

I stand, feet planted, muscles straining, eyes half-closed, determined.

Sometimes life is the calm after the wind and the rain. Mixed up emotions and confusing thoughts coughed up like driftwood and plastic bags.

Even here, even in this place, all will be well.

All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well. – Julian of Norwich