I’m scooping up the sea. That’s one of the Tai Chi movements in the sequence I’m doing each morning. It consists of bending low, one foot behind the other, and with crossed hands, scooping and bringing the sea up high until it merges with the air above. 

At high tide, with pohutukawa leaves drifting in the water, I enter a dream space.

I’m scooping up my dreams, that drift like brilliant leaves on the surface of the sea.

 I’m scooping up waves of tenderness, as I remember talking with little Mira (3 years old) on Skype from China, where she is on a six week visit with her mother.

 I’m scooping up surges of satisfaction from completing my tax return yesterday while the rain poured down.

And I’m scooping up gratitude, for this beautiful place where I live beside the sea: gratitude for peace, safety, and the spaciousness of summer.