On the beach in Yachats, Oregon. Photo by Drew Myron.

I'm feeling small.

The ocean grew tall this weekend, waves curled at 10 and 15 feet. The sea was centerpiece, a beautiful low roar of large, and the sky stood steady and blue.

And later, in afternoon light, I turned east, walked deep into forest. Stood small against massive old growth stumps and gazed up to taller trees reaching for light. Sun filtered through thickness and fell on a floor of moss and fern while branches cracked beneath my feet.

Nature offers powerful reminders of perspective. I am small today, and that feels true.

Unless you

visit the dark places, you’ll never
feel the sea pull you in and under,
swallowing words before they form.
Until you visit places within you
cloistered and constant, you will travel
in a tourist daze, wrought with too much
of what endures, depletes.

If you never turn from light, close
your eyes, feel the life inside, you’ll leave
the church, the beach, your self,
knowing nothing more.

Unless you are silent, you will not
know your urgent heart, how it beats
between the thin skin of yes and no.

- Drew Myron
from Thin Skin