Sand Between My Toes
Gene Fowler’s words “writing is easy; all you do is sit staring at a blank sheet of paper until the drops of blood form on your forehead“, felt particularly true for me over the last couple of weeks. I cannot claim that I have nothing to write, as I am always scribbling away, recording interesting snippets in my little pocket diary that goes everywhere with me. It is just that sometimes the words swirling around my head, simply cannot find their proper place in a sentence to capture my thoughts and feelings. It is at times like this that the blank computer screen becomes an accusation I much rather prefer to avoid.
It is much easier to spend my writing energy in a world where deadlines guide me. A world in which I create activities for children to have fun painting, drawing, sculpting, dancing, singing, acting and exploring. To create that world, I enter an enchanting space where the visible genius of artists linger in their creations, long after they have departed this world. I often get side-tracked and lost in cyberspace, and only manage to surface days later, feeling dazed and out of sorts.
That is when I head for the desert with my ever obliging husband in tow. After that first, deep gulp of cool morning air, I head towards the first sand dune to get as high up as possible. From here I can rest my eyes on a stormy sea of sand dunes. As soon as I catch my breath from the exertion, I feel instant peace wash over me. The sand between my toes never fail to feel like freedom, relentlessly spurring me on to explore what lies over the next dune.
I am happiest barefoot, and walking in the desert reminds me of the infinite beauty life holds. It seduces me with its curves, ripples, colours, shades and patterns, and although it can appear stagnant at first glance, it is constantly changing and shaping itself into something different. Covering up the present and revealing the past as it keeps moving towards the horizon. Ceaselessly shifting with the mood of the wind.
When I remember to turn back, I cannot even make out the shape of my husband’s body on the distant dune, where he is patiently waiting for me, lost in his own thoughts. We both find freedom and peace in this enormous expanse of sand, and an hour or two of allowing our feet and minds to roam this wild world, leave us energised and excited to be alive.