Just before sunrise the next morning, I awoke cradled in carefree joy. The ocean washed away the remaining pandemic residue—the last smatterings of shock and fear released overnight into salt air. The dolphin parade mid-morning melted fourteen months into one deep breath of gratitude. Cleansing, purifying water baptized me. Primordial newness. Infinitely fresh. Always beginning. Romping dolphins played tag. Not it! It.
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The same omens that alarmed Lincoln petrify us now. October 18th protests—November 4th elections—60 years of Neil Young. “There’s a full moon risin’ / Let’s go dancin’ in the light.”