Walking along the beach on a cloudy day is its own form of meditation. Within a few steps, the rhythmic pulse of the ocean and the gentle call of seagulls draw the mind into a quiet, reflective state. The waves roll in, steady and endless, their hushed roar blending with the sound of the wind. With each footfall sinking into the cool, damp sand, the present moment unfolds with effortless clarity.

The overcast sky, vast and shifting, mirrors the nature of the mind—sometimes heavy with thoughts, yet always open, always capable of revealing glimpses of light. The horizon stretches infinitely, reminding us of the boundless nature of our own consciousness. In this space, the mind does not need to cling to worries or chase after fleeting thoughts. Instead, it can simply be, floating in the steady embrace of the elements.

With each breath, the ocean’s rhythm becomes the rhythm of the self. The waves crest and break, just as thoughts rise and dissolve. The gentle beat of the heart echoes the ancient pulse of the tide, a reminder that life itself is part of something vast and eternal. There is peace in this realization—a deep, unshakable peace that exists within, no matter how turbulent the outer world may seem.

Even as footprints mark the sand, they are soon erased by the tide, a quiet testament to impermanence. Nothing remains fixed; all things shift and flow. And yet, rather than loss, this impermanence offers a profound sense of hope. Just as the waves smooth away the past, each moment offers the chance to begin anew. The ocean does not cling to what has been. It moves forward, endlessly, and so can we.

True peace is not found in the absence of storms, but in the quiet center that remains even as the winds rise.

This peace, always present, is a wellspring of hope—a knowing that, no matter how uncertain the skies may be, the tides will turn, the clouds will part, and the sun will shine once more. Walking along the shore, listening to the whispered wisdom of the waves, one can remember: peace is not something to be sought; it is something to be remembered. It is always here, waiting, just beneath the surface, ready to rise with the tide.

~Wylddane

Meditation: Pacific Ocean Sunset at Sharp Beach, Pacifica, CA

Find a comfortable position, and gently close your eyes. Take a slow, deep breath in through your nose... and release it softly through your mouth. Let your body settle into this moment, grounding yourself with each breath.

Now, imagine yourself standing on the soft sands of Sharp Beach in Pacifica, California. The air is cool, and a gentle breeze kisses your skin. In front of you, the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean stretches toward the horizon. The waves roll rhythmically toward the shore, their sound a peaceful lullaby that calms your mind.

As the sun begins to dip toward the horizon, you notice the brilliant colors filling the sky—deep oranges and purples, soft pinks that melt into gold. The world feels still, almost sacred, as the light slowly fades, marking the close of one day and the end of this chapter of your life.

With every breath, you let go of what has passed—whether the triumphs or the challenges of the month behind you. You release any tension, any lingering worries, and simply allow the beauty of the moment to embrace you. The sun sets, marking an end... but in this stillness, there is always something more.

As the sun sinks below the horizon, remember this: where night falls here, dawn rises elsewhere. The end of one day is always the beginning of another. With this thought, you sense the possibility of renewal. You feel the hope of a new month on the horizon, filled with uncharted days, untouched opportunities.

Let the deep connection to the ocean, the steady rhythm of the waves, remind you that change is constant and always moving forward, even when it feels still. You are part of this ever-moving, ever-changing cycle of life.

As the final rays of sunlight disappear beneath the horizon, take a deep breath and sense the faith within you—that everything unfolds in its time, that everything has its season. And just like the ocean waves, you too are part of something larger, something far-reaching and beautiful.

Let love fill your heart—love for yourself, love for this moment, and love for the future. Know that the new month ahead holds all the potential for your dreams, your growth, and your joy. Whatever has passed is behind you, and ahead of you stretches a fresh path to walk, step by step.
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With your heart full of gratitude, hope, faith, and love, slowly begin to bring your awareness back to the present moment. When you're ready, take another deep breath, and gently open your eyes.

~Wylddane
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A quiet New Year's Eve in a wee home nestled in the snowy woods sounds like the perfect retreat—peaceful, intimate, and full of simple joys. The beauty of such a setting lies in its stillness and connection to nature. In a place like this, the usual hustle and bustle of New Year's celebrations is replaced by a slower, more reflective pace, allowing for deep contentment and appreciation for the small, meaningful moments.

Here’s how I imagine such an evening might unfold:

As the final day of the year fades, the snow outside falls gently, blanketing the forest in a soft, silencing hush. The world seems to slow down, the usual sounds of nature muted by the thick layer of snow covering the ground, making everything feel soft and serene.

Inside the wee home, the warmth of a fire crackles in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The room smells of pine and the lingering scent of woodsmoke, cozy and familiar. Perhaps there’s a pot of stew or a simmering pot of coffee on the stove, something comforting that fills the air with its warmth and aroma.

By the window, you can see the world outside—the snow-covered trees and the sky, now dark, speckled with the quiet twinkling of stars. There are no fireworks here—just the occasional soft whoosh of wind brushing against the trees and the crisp crunch of snow beneath the paws of wildlife moving in the distance. It's a world untouched, still and beautiful, as though time itself is resting.

Inside, there’s no rush. Perhaps you curl rest in a comfortable chair near the fire, wrapped in a blanket, feeling the peaceful hum of quiet conversation or maybe the music of Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" on the radio. The ticking of a clock, a gentle reminder that time is moving, but it feels like there’s no need to hurry.

For those who share this tiny home—a close-knit family, two old friends, or perhaps even just one—it’s a time for reflection. The year that’s about to pass is remembered fondly, its little moments cherished: quiet walks, shared meals, fun and funny conversations. There’s gratitude for what has been, for what has grown, and a gentle optimism for what the coming year may bring, though there’s no need for big resolutions or bold proclamations. It’s enough to simply be together, to enjoy the warmth of companionship and the peace of the evening.

As midnight approaches, there’s no grand countdown—perhaps just the soft murmur of voices singing a quiet song, or the clink of a couple of mugs raised in a small toast to the new year. No fireworks, no noise—just a shared moment, a breath taken together at the threshold of something new.

The night stretches on peacefully, perhaps with just the lightest snowfall continuing to dust the landscape outside or, instead, a night sky filled with twinkling stars. The warmth of the fire and the companionship inside make it feel like there’s nowhere else in the world you’d rather be.

In this tiny, snow-covered home in the woods, New Year’s Eve is not a celebration of grand moments, but of quiet contentment. It’s the perfect way to welcome a new year—softly, gently, and with a full heart, surrounded by the peace of the natural world and the warmth of those we hold close.

A celebration like this can be deeply grounding. It’s a moment to step away from the noise of the world and connect to the essential things that truly matter—love, nature, and the simple, quiet joy of being.

​~Wylddane

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For quite a few years now, I have been a student of metaphysics.  My first introduction was through Dr. Wayne Dyer's book "Your Erroneous Zones."  Then my next step in this journey was through Unity...Rev. Maureen Bass at one of the Unity churches in San Francisco.  There is so much I have yet to learn.  However, the journey is a good one.

Lately...well the last few days...I have been a wee bit lost in my thinking which has lead to a restless borderline grumpiness.  This morning I came across this by Thich Nhat Hanh; and, it was just what I needed.

“If while washing dishes, we think only of the cup of tea that awaits us, thus hurrying to get the dishes out of the way as if they were a nuisance, then we are not “washing the dishes to wash the dishes.” What’s more, we are not alive during the time we are washing the dishes. In fact we are completely incapable of realizing the miracle of life while standing at the sink. If we can’t wash the dishes, the chances are we won’t be able to drink our tea either. While drinking the cup of tea, we will only be thinking of other things, barely aware of the cup in our hands. Thus we are sucked away into the future—and we are incapable of actually living one minute of life.”
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~Thich Nhat Hanh