I was home, in my house on the beach, It’s just as serene as you might think. Each step I take is foam against the rocks, each finger lifted is a sea shell upturned. Whenever I speak I find that the seagulls harmonize, whenever I look I find a snail that's moved a pace ahead. I move with the environment around me because the terrain grounds my emotions, my feelings are embedded into my floor. So when I find I'm having a rough day, a floorboard in unused placement will creak when I'm looking for food. A hinge just oiled will squeal when I'm simply trying to get to bed. So I try my best to not allow myself to stay upset for too long, for I fear my house might crumble. Really it’s not suppressing emotions, it's more having a good, motivating, and true reason to release negative emotions. 

When I'm sad, I allow myself to be happy. When I'm angry, I allow myself to scream into a pillow, then sleep it away. When I'm worried, I fiddle with rocks and shiny gems collected in a drawer in my bureau. But, there is one emotion, one feeling, I cannot beat. That is the feeling of loneliness. For it’s a mix of feelings, it's sadness and pity for my mind lacking love, it's anger that I feel I’m not worthy of love, it’s worry that I might never find love. In this house, my home, I find that when I feel lonely, the walls breathe. The floor shakes, the windows crack, and I can do nothing but run around and fix and tidy until the feeling passes, almost like how one would act during an earthquake.

I find that as my chest rises and falls with the tides as I sleep, I toss and turn with the current, and I wake up centered in my bed in true melancholy emptiness. I don't have friends to call and ask for a sleepover, and I don't have a lover to call home at night. So I find the only space to fill my bed in the morning besides myself, is blanket and sheet, pillow and cover. One night, I found myself awake in the Witch's hour, in the empty space, my blanket tangled and kicked to the bottom of my bed. I sat up and looked around. After noting the setting moon in my window, the shadows creeping along the walls, and the cool sea breeze flowing across my hardwood floor, to the edge of my bed. I crossed my legs, and started to slowly sway from side to side.

 I turned to my bureau and grabbed a rock, on a special plate. This rock has the coloring of a cloud and the texture of fine sand. This rock has feelings embedded into it too. This rock helps me see what path I need to walk, the path I need most. I closed my eyes and viewed my thoughts, caressing the rock in my palms. A dreamy gray mist overcame my mind, and images materialized. I saw waves rolling, white caps flowing to tan sands. I saw a path, a boardwalk, leading down to the sea. I saw golden swaying grass, I heard harsh gales and crashing waves, I saw gray skies, I felt… I felt as if…

A loud banging sound snapped me out of my meditative state. I saw the source of the sound, the window shutter, snapping against the side of the house. I put the sound out of mind and attempted to get up. Then I heard a different banging sound. I felt a harsh cool breeze flow up my back and fluff my hair. I turned back to find the shades on my window in shambles. An aggressive wind was rushing through the window, like the hateful words of someone who knows they are wrong, but won’t admit it.

I quickly ran over to the side of the room and shut the window. It squeaked as I brought it down. Now hearing more sounds coming from the other rooms I quickly ran out of my room, the hinge to my door squealing as it was left in dust. I ran to my dining room to find my plant pots shattered, to find my pictures off the walls splayed on the floor. To find my back door open and swinging in the wind. As I'm sprinting around the house tidying this and tidying that I find that the floorboards under me are moaning as if someone had lost an item very dear to them. I rushed and rushed and rushed, I picked up the plants, I collected the pictures, I shut the windows, locked the shutters, binded the shades, and locked the doors.

  But one by one by one things came undone and my mind was in ruins, my hair in tatters. I rushed and rushed and rushed but it wouldn't stop. It wouldn't just find peace, it won't just find something to make it better, it wont find a pillow to scream into, it wont find rocks to fidget with. Why can’t it stop? I rushed and rushed and rushed picking up, setting down, tying up, and locking. Eventually everything fell. Winds blew harder, things banged louder. Eventually, I screamed. A wind breaking, glass shattering scream.

The gale came to a turn, and fell. The howling that once yawned across my walls finally calmed, the shaking and stirring of this house stopped amidst the raw emotion, and fell to the ground. I looked around and found that everything was in its place. The plants were back in their spots, freshly watered. The pictures back up in memory and smiles. The windows shut and locked, same with the doors. I looked down at my hands to find small trails of blood trickling down my fingers, reminding me of the feeling of shattered glass. But it did not harm my mind, and it did not hurt when I rinsed and bandaged my harmed and worked hands. After I finished with the gauze, I heard a faint whistling, but not a tune from those of human lips. A tune from those of the clouds, whispering down their secrets to my house on the beach.

The clouds had called to me, and allowed me to find myself again on that path. The walk, the storm, the beach. I started around my house, scrutinizing every floorboard and hinge, every nook, and every cranny. I found my house in its purest form. A true embodiment of earthly emotion. I find myself feeling elevated in an energetic sense, I feel as if my mind is a foot above me. I found myself experiencing serenity and enlightenment. I found myself having peace in solitude. I took this moment to breathe. Following the pattern of the waves. Roll, inhale, crash, exhale. The sound of this pattern led me outside. Barefoot and chilled, I trailed down the stones I laid by my own worked hands, and I walked towards The Path.

The first step on the walk, I found myself surrounded by golden swaying grass, shadowed by a dreary wooden fence. I saw the waves silently creeping up the tan sands. I felt the winds. I saw the storm. Along the horizon, I found as I walked down my Path, I saw a storm. A twist and pull of pure emotion. A raw physical embodiment of sadness, anger, and anxiety. It scorned me, with sharp specks of sands, and hard beads of water. It yelled at me, with blowing gales and gray skies. Yet, among all this turmoil, I walked. I walked one foot in front of the other, I walked with the wings of The World. I walked with the mind of a Star. I stood and watched the eyes of The Man. Even as he glared my house down to its foundation, even as he churned up the sands and waters of my beach, I walked. I walked with the power of a Chariot, with Strength at its rein. 

I walked with eyes of peace, towards him. I walked with 2 Cups in my heart. One for love, and one for light.

As I walked with eyes of peace towards the storm, I left behind myself, to embody my true form.

I am the House, I am the Beach.