Weakness of Heart

Our rocky coasts are always endlessly upended, eroding waves crashing cliffs and forming caves. The question is always how deep they'll dig before collapse. I'm not so worried about their sturdiness in passing. Any real crumbling is bound to wait until the sea returns full force – unlikely on any of my low tide visits. This little gallery is working through from both sides, a small passage connecting two openings. It might grow through the decades to a charming shelter, or simply shatter down in some massive storm surge. It's a good reminder to appreciate what's changing, so I'll never catch me craving the same beauty endlessly. Our hearts only thrive on loving what is when we're finding what's new. Given nothing but old sights seen and misty nostalgia, we suffer a sort of emotional dementia, a weakness of heart. If I go a month without seeing somewhere I've never been, it's a sad stretch. Show me those unknowns.

 

January 31, 2025

Victoria Beach, Nova Scotia

 

Year 18, Day 6291 of my daily journal.

 

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