On the Mudflats, Bodega Bay.

More from my lovely foggy morning at Doran Beach. 

I am resting from the exhausting endeavors of so many years. I may have completed the phase of resting that is coming home to myself. Like these birds, my entire being is taken up with caring for my own needs, in the present. In my current state of rest is “a sense of healing and self-forgiveness and of arrival,” as the poet David Whyte puts it.

For me, things are as they should be—a great relief despite world events that shake me to the core.