Being: Conscious, mortal existence; life. Every month we welcome two families, two people, two voices to share their stories in whatever way they chose. We hope that you find joy in their daily lives, and their simple habit of just being.
I am a proud Kansan. While others may joke about all that’s “the matter” with where I live, I look up at the stars at night and imagine how heroic my pioneer ancestors must have been to come live in a place with so big a sky. I believe the rolling prairie in late Spring and Summer is one of the most beautiful places on this Earth, second only to the bleak desolation of the fields covered with snow in Winter. The clean smell of the air…the cicadas chirping…the Midwestern manners and work ethic and feeding-people-thing…it’s all in my bones the way that no where else can ever be. But yet, every few years or so, I need to dip my toes in an ocean. It’s not just, “I need to go on vacation,” or “I need to relax on a beach for a week.” It’s bigger. Something in my soul needs to smell the tang of the wind whipping across the water and feel the heavy, slow, smush of wet sand under my feet.
Although the ocean and the prairie can be similarly expansive—both tend to make my heart feel too big for my ribcage—the wildness of the waves has an edge of danger that grass can’t match. Wading in and letting them spray over me, swimming out and looking back at the shore, imagining the mysterious creatures that could be floating right next to me—it all makes me feel brave and reckless and free. I suppose it’s a bit like a drug, albeit a mild and healthy one. Happily, last week I was able to get my “fix”. It had been so long that the yearning was starting to get distracting. Now I can return to land, refreshed, steady, and settled….until next time.