Tonight I went down to the sea. Night waves are so moving and standing before them, I can bring up every past experience I've had in their presence. When something is truly moving, you keep it with you. When you emotionally connect with something, you retain the memory as a vivid picture. I stood there in the sand tonight watching movies of kisses and fires on the beach, long walks and deep discussions. It's a somewhat rare thing to find yourself on the beach at night and maybe that's why it feels so powerful. But tonight, I was alone just pulling up pictures of the past and walking slowly in shoes not conducive to a spontaneous shuffle through the sand. But it was ok. Everything was ok. Even the stuff that isn't ok, was ok. I found an abandoned beach fire and sat on the warm ring of rocks surrounding it. I breathed in the scent of burning wood as it mixed with the fresh air and attempted to empty my mind of the relentless plans and logic going on up there. I tuned into the sounds of the waves, the crackling fire and I could hear the light wind through the tunnel of my down hood. I realized sitting there by the fire on the beach, that I needed a new story. In that rare state of nature-induced neutrality, I realized I have become a strong and compelling character in a past and irrelevant story. That was a scary thought, but more than scary, it was liberating. Guess what you get to do when you find out you're a heroine in the wrong story? You get to write a new one. You get to start from scratch and begin with chapter one.