Throughout the year, I’ve resisted thinking about the next day’s post so I wouldn’t scare stuff away. It’s what I have to do when I get really close to something writing fiction–under no circumstance do you think; stop thinking and just write. To this same end, every once in a while during the year, I wrote a word or two about a post on a scrap of paper just to get it out of my head where I couldn’t mess it up by thinking.
For these last ten posts, however, I took a sheet of paper and with intention gave some thought to what I might like to write about–how I might like to end–and then I jotted down a word or two and forgot about it until it was time to write the next post.
Here’s what I had written for today’s post:
tides
When I’m here in Provincetown, I almost always know what time high tide will be, and low tide. I know whether the water’s on its way out or on its way back in. I listen for the moment the crank grinds to a stop and then starts moving in the other direction. Or I look up from what I’m doing and think, Here it comes… And I think of this line from Evidence by Mary Oliver,
Eventually tides will be the only calendar you believe in.
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365 true things about me
why this daily practice
Almost there!
Lovely.
wonderful, thank you!
Dorothy, Kim, and Sigrun–thanksso much for reading!
Wow. How did you get to this day so fast?? I’m so sad I haven’t been reading with you, and shocked to land here so close to the end. I HAVE been sending you happy thoughts and energy, but obviously you didn’t need it. I hope you’re excited about tomorrow. I’m so totally pleased for you, but of course I knew you would do it. All good things to you and back tomorrow!
Claire! Great to hear from you–and thanks especially for the energy. I am excited and feel like the project was totally worth the time and effort. I hope you are well.
There’s a certain sense we have which responds to the tides. I think we’re in harmony with the pull and tug of the moon. I certainly feel the difference or perhaps the fullness when it’s high tide. It changes the atmosphere. I listened to the radio program On Being and the interview with Mary Oliver. I was so relieved to know that Mary, too, is having difficulty liking mangroves! I now know they are wonderful for the environment, but, there’s still a ‘but’!
Ann, being such a water freak, I was surprised at how much I enjoy the beauty of low tide. Before finding this spot on Provincetown Harbor, I had thought I wanted to live by the steady ocean. But I identify so much more with the coming and going and the changing of the tides here. I loved that On Being interview with Mary Oliver!
I, too, am a water lover. I wish I lived near the water, but I have to settle for visiting. I have enjoyed your posts during this project. Thank you for sharing bits of yourself.
Thanks for your kind words, Susan, and thanks so much for reading. I’m listening to the water rushing in right now…
Thanks for reminding me about tides. I grew up and still live on the water, and although I never take the tides for granted, I like the offering of the Mary Oliver quote about tides being the only calendar I’ll need. I think I’m already there. What I love most about the tides where I live is that when the tide is in, and I’m sleeping outside in the tent, the water hits up against the cliffs and lulls me to sleep. Right now I’m on the Ventura River in the Sespe Wilderness of Southern California, and it’s the frogs doing the lulling. As always, thanks Cynthia! (I’m reading your “year” bit by bit as I finish my days’ work.)
How wonderful, Kirie–on the Ventura River. I’m grateful for your comments. They’re giving me a chance to revisit some of these moments from my year of true things. Enjoy the frogs.