A small story of warm simplicity.
It was one of those perfect Northern nights, where dusk blanketed the horizon in an indigo-pink symphony.
I wrapped my sweater tighter as the sun descended, admiring the crescent moonrise and seemingly broken barriers between ocean and sky. Wind and wave. Me and sea.
It was September in the Scottish Highlands, and alone, I let myself lean fully into the wild. A silly smile washed over my face, the kind that felt more comfortable to set free in the company of the elements rather than people. I skipped through sand that whipped into my hair. I didn’t care. I spread my arms wide and felt the wind as wings.
As I wandered back to town, I slowed down and took a moment to admire its cozy, welcoming glow. I noted my dinner destination in the distance: a wood-fired pizza place that looked more like a well-worn shack. Soft smoke billowed from its chimney, and I could hear its screen door squeak from half a mile away.
When I walked in, I was greeted by a gust of heat from the pizza oven and two burly Scotsmen, blasting Alela Diane’s album “To Be Still” from a boombox that looked like it was from 1995.
“What’ll ya have today, lassie?”
I ordered and took a seat at the counter, waiting for my food to be prepared… and even though many years have passed since this specific moment in time, I vividly remember Alela Diane’s “Every Path” singing through the speakers like a love letter from the unseen magic of life:
All the back roads, All the highways
Distant countries that I’ve passed through
Every path has led me back to you
Every path has led me back to you
The door squeaked open, and a group of three locals entered, starting up friendly chatter with the pizza makers. They had just gone surfing at sunset, and I listened to their easygoing catch ups about family and loved ones, local news and nature. They had plans to harvest their garden the next day and start to prep for the colder months.
Every path has led me back to you
Every path has led me back to you
I remember sitting there and taking it all in, feeling at ease in my cells, safe, nourished, and welcomed—even if I wasn’t directly part of the conversation or their activities. This feeling of full-body ease was an unfamiliar experience for me at the time. I felt something deep within me sigh in relief: This. I need this. This feeling is where I want to live. I felt my whole self yearn to dive into this simple goodness, to the cozy connection of locals catching up after sunset.
Put your head upon my chest
My little darlin', I know of restlessness
My little darlin', I know of restlessness
Sometimes traveling far from what’s familiar helps us hear where life is calling us forward, and for me, that tiny seaside Scottish town served as a sanctuary for remembering the simplicity of earth nourishment and cozy-warm connection as a North Star in my life. As a simple invitation to my lay down the endless seeking.
I share this small story today with a prayer that by inviting you into the coziness of this simple seaside memory that I can invite you into a moment of slow simplicity to meet the momentum of your day.
Full-body presence serves like a doorway into deeper connection with ourselves and the earth within and around us. It can assist in growing our capacity to both engage and respond to what's unfolding in our world.
Presence guides us to the next right step, even when it feels like we must lose the way we’ve known in order to re-member a forgotten and perhaps ancient way scribed within our breath and bones, mirrored by the mysteries of moon and sea, the horizon and its steady show of dusk to dawn.
Know that this is a rhythm you can return to, a path that will always lead you back to nature - both inside and out.
Love,
Madeline
