On New Year’s Day I hunted for\nbeaverwood at the wrack line. A couple choice cuts here and there and\nI stuffed my pockets and shouldered the bigger pieces. It was early\nmorning and a white ocean creamed in at low tide. I was thinking\nabout someone dear lost to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A design in the sand arrested my\nattention. I headed toward it. In short order, I beheld a drawing of\na hand giving The Finger, but also with a dash of smirky smile at the\nbottom of the design. What a New Year’s Day find!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In my previous life as a teacher, a\nphotograph of this drawing would have prompted an immediate lesson in\ncreative writing or philosophy for my students. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I leave it up to you and invite your\ninterpretations. Is the Finger Giver angry? Breaking through, finally\ndone with it all, and transcending? Giving it to someone in\nparticular or the world in general? \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Man or woman or something else? Saying\na hearty goodbye to 2019? \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It is instructive that the Finger was\npointed toward land, but I imagine a few people might give the Finger\nto the ocean because the ocean took the lives of a loved one. That’s\nnot the ocean’s fault. That’s a misplaced Finger in my mind. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Someone was on the beach well before\nme, at dawn, maybe in the dark, maybe at the stroke of midnight,\nmaybe elated, maybe on meth, maybe sober, maybe distressed beyond\nbelief, and etched this Finger in the sand. I can only hope the\netching somehow helped. \n<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
On New Year’s Day I hunted for beaverwood at the wrack line. A couple choice cuts here and there and I stuffed my pockets and shouldered the bigger pieces. It was early morning and a white ocean creamed in at low tide. I was thinking about someone dear lost to me. A design in the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":5676,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[5,32],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-5675","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-meditations","category-oregon-beaches","has-post-title","has-post-date","has-post-category","has-post-tag","has-post-comment","has-post-author",""],"builder_content":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5675","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5675"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5675\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5678,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5675\/revisions\/5678"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/5676"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5675"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5675"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5675"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}