placekeepers: another bel kai necklace for the capture collection (giveaway!)
Wednesday, September 1, 2010 by Kate Inglis 
There's almost nothing quite so steadfast as beachgrass. It digs in deep to keep beaches from washing away, holding its place through hurricanes, blizzards, and seasonal sleep. On its own a blade of beachgrass is unspectacular but together, in vast schools, they glimmer like a thousand mackerel, swishing through salt air just the same -- as one entity.
We don't pay these things enough thanks -- these proud and plain and useful elements of ourselves that keep life from washing away. They are placekeepers. They do the humble work of rooting magical things.
I'm delighted to share with you my Bel Kai Designs necklace, the newest treat added to the Capture Collection of Shutter Sisters photographic jewelery. To celebrate, we're giving one away today. Comment here by midnight PST to be eligible. Tell me this: what helps you keep your place in this life?
Kate Inglis
All these responses were so wonderful... I love seeing all that grounds you. Congratulations to NTE, the 71st commenter and winner of the 'placekeepers' necklace from Bel Kai Designs. Thank you all for participating! ~ Kate
Reader Comments (194)
a brief post 'endings and beginnings' concludes with my true north http://faithhopecherrytea.blogspot.com/2010/08/endings-and-beginnings_16.html
thanx for asking & thanx for offering your giftings!
What keeps my place in life is to be present. I always try and cherish every moment for what it is and not get swayed by what's next, what happened yesterday or the many what ifs.
Peace.
Beautiful piece. I <3 it.
This is a beautiful necklace!
love your creation. i too have a special connection to beach grass, my happy place.
XO
kristin
that, and the love of my family.
I watched my second sunrise here this morning. I love sunrises and sunsets (sunsets more) because they are a bordertime. The lines (albeit fuzzy) between night and day. It’s as if for these moments, the entire earth stands still with held breath and then release a long satisfied puff of air once the sun crests or disappears. I like sunsets more because they use a more diverse palette of color. And they feel more peaceful. Like the earth is relaxing after a long day of intense light and color and movement and sound. I can feel a sigh of peace at a sunset. Sunrises are blessings. Sunsets are grace.
Sunrise over the Monterey bay starts with a diffuse red/orange light behind the hills to the north east. The bay itself is shrouded and edges softened by the marine layer that is so low it looks more like the train of a bridal gown, running all lace and filigree across the water, than funeral dressing. The marine layer, though visible only on the water, is still in the air, softening the hills’ outlines so that the red/orange light, which is now turning more orange/yellow, doesn’t seem to have a locus. As time passes, the light behind the hills intensifies and begins to gather at one loose point. On our side of the hills, it is still misty and grey and dark, as if the light is gathering its strength behind the hills and won’t release itself to the bay until it can leap out in full force. The outline of the hills are sharpened as the light goes hot and white behind them. Their edges now have a fierce white line along their spines like Andy Goldsworthy’s piece with the raw sheep’s wool running along a stone wall when the light hit it. Will it happen now?
Now?
Now?
The light, still only behind the hill barrier, gets more and more focused. More and more intense. Rays of stunning white/orange shoot up into the sky. But still no release. The white line along the ridge gets so bright, you almost swear it’s the sun’s rim somehow expanded over the entire horizon. But no.
Everything is holding its breath (even the sea lions are quiet).
And then.
And then.
And then.
The whiteness contracts to a pinpoint, and the sun appears, spilling light into the bay like an avalanche. And just like that, the bay turns from a dead grey to molten silver, the air and sky go a bright grey/white. There are no other colors: only white, intense grey, and silver. Birds take wing and fly, dark specks, straight into the sun.
This silver/white phase lasts a while. Then it transitions to soft and muted blues like a Japanese painting of hills and water. The marine layer (which is ever present) is almost invisible and still softening lines and focus. There are pinpricks of dark blue fishing boats clustered on the light blue bay. The hills behind are layered in light and dark blues. The blue phase gets lighter and lighter until a few hours later, in almost an instant, the full range of colors apparent: the bay, a deep blue; hills, gold/brown and green; etc . . .
But for that morning moment, in the silver/white and blues stage, the world is pretty monochromatic. As if God is mixing his hues on the palette for the day.
Without either, I'd most definitely be lost.