A friend and I decided that we would try to find a new beach each week. I like to collect shells and driftwood; she likes to collect rocks. We both like to paint and sketch.
Last week, after a few wrong turns, we found a little-known beach down a narrow lane. There were few cars in the parking lot, and just as we’d hoped, the beach only had a handful of visitors.
It was a pebble beach with a soft susurration of rolling stones each time a wave receded. Like all beaches in my part of the world, it was strewn with huge logs, left behind from the logbooms that used to fill the waters. They make perfect sitting spots, and being weathered and greyed by time and nature, they added a quiet ambience to the scene.
In the distance, a line of mountains with one larger one behind them, looming in all its snow-capped glory, reminded us that we weren’t back East any more.
Sue sketched, and I dragged out my old water colours. It had been nearly twenty years since I’d painted on site in the outdoors, so I felt clumsy and inexperienced. As well, many of the paint tubes were dried up or their caps were frozen on tightly. However, I made do with those I could open and tried to capture the beauty around us.
It was one of those perfect “flow” moments when time ceases to exist and all the world around seems to hold its breath in the stillness of the spirit. I realized it had been some time since I’d had a flow experience and I decided then and there that I would make a conscious effort to find more of them, for it’s in those moments when I most feel the breath of God upon my neck.
May you have flow moments in your life to day.
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