Winter lays a kiss on Laguna

CATHARINE COOPER

How many ways can the sky kiss the sea?

Early lavender light bleeds to plum atop an indigo seam, while the

water’s surface plays in mirrored reflection. The day races forward

as violet chases pink into a soft yellow, rolling into a blue that is

yet to be. All the while, Catalina sits sentinel, enjoying her cloak

of silhouette, slowly shifting to island reveal.

Winter skies on the coast play their magic in psyche as well as

our bodies. While our counterparts in the East dig out shovels and

plows, we stroll the shoreline in shorts, children build castles in

the sand, and we wonder why anyone would choose to live anywhere but

here.

There is a chill in the weather. OK, let’s call it what it is --

cold! A morning temperature of 41 degrees means an extra layer for my

oceanfront walk and definitely a pair of gloves. The change in

temperature also shepherds evenings at home with friends and bubbling

pots of soup or stew, and an oven scented with freshly baked bread.

In the gathering of like and disparate spirits, and the sharing of

life stories, we begin to know more of one another and of ourselves.

Political bantering, psychological analyzing, literary arguments and

the never-ending saga of how quickly life changes, fill the rooms of

my home with the essence of being human. We have thoughts. We

challenge one another to reach and grow. We explore options of self-

expression and discover ways in which we can support one another. We

speak of deaths and births and the space in-between. We want to know

one another and we want to be known.

Something about the holidays catapults an almost searing honesty

into our self-reflection. Maybe it’s the stress of family gatherings.

Old wounds played out. Sibling rivalry remembered. Dysfunction peers

over the horizon. Maybe it’s yet another mirror, that of the trees

stripped of their leaves, their nakedness, that we are able to apply

to our own lives.

Who might I be, if I weren’t afraid? There’s an “of” to the end of

that statement, one that is repeatedly asked by those who search for

a more authentic self. Afraid of? The usual answer is being seen as

less than that which I have carefully crafted as a public persona. We

all have secrets, some which we are sure protect us, others which

simply assure that we are removed from engagements of sincerity.

How do we move beyond, “afraid of?” What masks can we put down so

that we can share our magical selves with the world? I am many people

within one body. The writer, the photographer, the dancer, the

painter, the lover, the child, and the mother all play out within my

waking space. I am too wild for some and too quiet for others. I am

too liberal and too conservative, all within the same breath.

What secrets can I let go of so that I can live more freely? Can I

tell you that I fall in love a hundred times a day? Can I tell you

that I can never get enough wilderness under my skin? Can I tell you

that if I had my way I’d stay in perpetual motion chasing the sunrise

across the globe? Can I tell you I wish I knew how to make a better

living with my writing and art?

But are these reveals, or simply an extension of what you already

know? Can I tell you that I can’t go to sleep without washing my

feet? That I’m still waiting for my children to find themselves. That

I boldly dream of a world without war, and believe it is possible.

The sea line, that precious horizon, has always been my confessor,

the one who knows all my secrets. Maybe that’s part of the romance

and dance of sea and sky, the reason I chase the light with

photographs and words. There is solace in the never-ending drift, a

constancy that soothes my soul and adds magic to every waking moment.

How many ways can the sky kiss the sea? I simply cannot count them

all.

* CATHARINE COOPER loves wild places. She can be reached at

ccooper@cooperdesign.net or (949) 497 5081.