I thirst and drink and dream of water still. Blessed with an Oregon sky full of water, the rains are a regular reminder of the sacred dance. Rivers are wonderful and flow through mind and heart, inexorable drives that satisfy while they imbue, reflect, reinforce yearning for what they are flowing toward. Nothing washes over me like the ocean. So that is where we go to hike in wind and rain, to sit quietly at great window, to run out on brand new beach and dive into the surge of salt and cold that grip the body and cleanse it electrically alive.