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Today, I felt sort of down. No reason in particular, just one of those days. As I was hitching towards Lincoln City, a young woman on some sort of drugs approached me and asked if I wanted to fight her. When I said no, she called me a “fucking bitch.”
Then, two young girls in their thirties stopped to pick me up. Something felt energetically off, yet I found myself getting in the car anyway. It eventually became clear they were both on meth. I asked if they could bring me to a state park that was close to Newport and so they did.
I released some tears as I walked off path toward the coast. I just wanted to be alone, in a space where it was just me and the coast. The sand was soft beneath my feet… the sun brought healing warmth upon my skin… the wind dried my tears as they rolled off my cheeks. I felt God’s kisses… I felt Him wiping away the tears through the gift of nature.
I walked across an extravagant bridge, holding onto the rails as it was super windy. I didn’t mind, I felt it provided me comfort. I made it to a state park which had a lot of people. I decided to hitch for shits and gigs. Didn’t care to get a ride, I knew worst case I could camp there. All I wanted to do was go to the coast where I could watch the waves in peace.
A cute tatted guy named Eric stopped and said he would give me a ride up to the Devils Punchbowl. I felt melancholy most of the day, but being in his presence felt so comforting. His calm energy helped me relax and eventually I felt myself being lifted up. I viewed him as my brother, coming to me in the form of an Angel… to save me, to remind me of how to smile.
He told me he slept on his boat to the feeling of the waves rocking him to sleep each night. In the car, he played what he called “mellow music.” He drove me further up north because he said he didn’t have much going on. He had a concert that he planned to go to, however decided he would rather explore some scenic spots. He just bought a new camera and was learning how to become a skilled photographer.
We stopped at a state park and he bought me some food and pastries. We sat at the picnic table and he let me play around with his camera. There was no comparison to the way it felt holding a real camera versus a phone. I took photos of berries, daisies, swaying leaves and my ripped apart shoes.
We decided to go look at the surfers. As we were walking down the wooden flight of stairs, he asked if he could take some photos of me. I noticed my Spirit lift. It was one of those moments where I noticed how often people told me I brought joy and energy into their life, but people did it for me just as much as I did it for them. I felt joyous that he found Divine beauty in the small things, just like me.
I was grateful he let me use his camera because it reminded me of the things that were important to me. It would inspire me to look deeper at what was around me… to remember what connected me to God the most… the pebble getting covered by the edge of a wave along the shore, the sun glimmering against the ocean, the bare footprint in the sand, making me wonder about the person who left it there… What inspired them to walk? We watched surfers crest waves and the whales spout water… and then I started to feel alive again. What a gift it was to simply feel… to simply be.
Eric dropped me off at the most perfect spot along the coast. It was close to the spot Quadzilla and I claimed as our favorite campsite. Among the moss-covered trees, with a view of the ocean. I camped directly on the path. Overall, I could feel I was starting to slow down for the year, feeling called to start going into my shell and recharging.