![]() Like any reunion with rarely-seen old friends, I was both thrilled to hear these boisterous birds in both British Columbia and Washington State during our trip in July, and a bit sad to recognize just how much I miss them. One of the things about moving a significant distance from the plants and animals I’m so familiar with is that I am also a long way from the kind knowing that is only possible when one has lived somewhere for a long time. Spring in West Marin - and the Pacific Northwest in general - always meant the return of Swainson’s Thrush singing their hearts out: Pacific is bigger / than I ever knew / until I got in her / and the water it moved / yeah it moved me / and if I was frightened / out there on the shore / well I had good reasons / but I don’t anymore / yeah it moved me / there’s nowhere to go where the earth doesn’t quake / it moved me The internets claim that the artist herself now lives and surfs in this same small town, so I like to imagine it’s her I captured in the photograph above exactly two years ago today. This song - and even the lyrics, which I finally “got” after playing the song over and over on trips to and from the Buddhist Centre - evokes a similar feeling for me. I’ve experienced a particular magic that is very difficult to describe, and it happened to me regularly while surfing this spot at sunset, on days when there was just enough haze in the atmosphere to blend the pastel colors of sea and sky seamlessly into one another to such an extent that distinctions themselves felt meaningless… in fact the difference between me, bobbing gently amongst all that wonder, and the vast expanse itself seemed to disappear entirely.
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