Some day I'm going to find 40 miles of rugged northern coastline and begin a long walk. It's going to be a solitary journey. On the small chance I come across a fellow traveler I'll smile, nod my head, maybe tip my cap, and continue on without breaking stride, my walking stick to keep me in a steady rhythm. This is what Thoreau would have done on a path along Walden Pond. Walt Whitman, too, would have looked at the moon and stars, watched the roar of an ocean, felt a salt breeze and felt closer to a God who created him and all that was around him. He would have come to a coast like this to quell his creative angst, to resolve his place in a world he sometimes thought incomprehensible in all its tumult. Read As I 'Ebbed With the Ocean of Life.
Occasionally a blogger just needs to clear his head, get some exercise along the wildness of God's ocean coast.
The Living Dead
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