A Recipe for Relinquishing of Self in the Storm

I'm offering this post as a light-hearted antidote to the darkness of the world these days, these weeks, these months, these seeming years.

A Recipe for Relinquishing of Self in the Storm

In the season of wild strawberries, in a north- wind driven mist,

stand near the grey imported rocks who shore up the summer harbour by the sea

Make sure the waters are clouded rusty-red and churning still and that there's no one

but the barnacles and gulls to see you

Take the sweet cream of this world into your mouth and hold on even if the sky begins to darken blacker--don't falter-- you are not finished yet

Shake, sway, twirl, tremble --allow the winds to move you until the madness of this life releases--do so gently for the wind's a sometimes rough-armed playmate and kind is softer

Breathe in the blue-pink rattle of beach peas in the rain, spy purple vetch as it winds randy round a delicate of bird's foot trefoil, frolic with bedstraw while you wonder at the absence here of chicory

Drink deep the scooping glug of waves that drag at sands below and empty you like a tidal cove left revelling in awe--bow down your head in worship for this, right now, is everything and you, sweet friend, beloved

The recipe, you ask?

Beyond your basic needs (which are not nothing) the ingredients don't matter-- Just show up, be curious. When your mouth feels thick with the want of life, go bravely, lean in.

July is ripe with strawberries. Make some biscuits. Whip the cream.

Thanks for reading!

Happy July!

Jill

Written at Stanley Bridge Harbour in a drifting, magical wind and rainstorm the first weekend of July 2026 and dedicated to my dear dad who turns eighty next week and who always has strawberry shortcake to celebrate his birthdays...As well as to both my dear parents, married 55 years this coming Sept and whose love of nature is second only to their wild love of strawberry shortcake in July. (Made of course with homemade biscuits and freshly whipped cream.)