Coast Watches: Twelve Meditations

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I have always loved the wild Oregon Coast, but last year I knew I must live by the sea. My friends told me I was suffering from Oceanitis, and that I’d get over longing for a dream house at the beach, just like everyone else.

I told them Oceanitis wasn’t a disease, but a calling, and that I was going to find my writer’s retreat.

The sign said, Road Closed, but I kept on going… over a 1927 one-lane bridge and into a one-loop cluster of 53 houses on the lava rocks below Cape Foulweather.

Called Miroco (see-the-rocks), this community voted against streetlights, paved roads and gates; its bulletin posted meetings of its water and road commissions… and parties.

There it was… an ocean-front-once-removed Lindahl cedar home called Whale Watcher’s Delight. How could I refuse? I’ve never regretted becoming house-rich and cash-poor, because Miroco offers so many blessings: beauty, sanctuary, and community.

BEAUTY. The wood-ceiling-and- decked house with a three-story glass front. The 160-degree view of the ocean and rocks below. The sunsets, the moonsets, the stars at night. The clouds, the rain, the surf.

SANCTUARY. Because the road beyond us fell into the ocean in 1996, the whole blocked-off area has become sanctuary for bald eagle, osprey, bobcat, bear, and us. It’s peaceful, it’s berry heaven.

COMMUNITY. Most of all, us year-rounders are a family, helping each other during storms or hard times.

Characters: a concrete sculptor, a wine-maker, a thirteen-sided house builder, a Keiko staff diver, a watercolor teacher, a Native American painter, a vegetarian cook, a gravel hauler, and world- traveling retirees. Eccentric. All with Oceanitis.

So I say, Road Closed? Keep on going! Follow your dream, find your joy. These meditations are my way of sharing the wonders I’ve found living in Miroco.

Next: Seeing the Stars Every Night Overhead

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