Gnarled into the shape of salty storms

I just got back in Portland yesterday afternoon after a week sleeping in a tent with Zachery in his parents' backyard, where I felt like an imposition around his family (although they assured me I was welcome, after Zachery talked to them about my concerns), and this stress on me, although somewhat difficult, was a welcomed change. The equinox and seasonal shift was already switching me into hibernation mode, making me want to focus on preparing a room for myself where I can create.

I was forced to confront certain conflicts I have been avoiding within my own self, paralleled by the roar of the ocean at night in a cold dripping wet tent and lonely walks on the barren and cold beach and through rugged and winding wilderness paths where bears come out at night, with trees that look like bonzais, gnarled into the shape of salty storms. I had been half-expecting these conflicts, or conflict, to surface, especially since the previous week at Wolf Creek. These environments, though, if harsh, have been tempered by a steady wave of love, and I see it all as pure blessing.