I can clearly see how our passions and promises slip away from us.
It seems I’ve never been busier, and yet none of it involves an income. How ironic! Up at 6:00, I head to the beach to catch the sunrise not because I’m out of work and think that it’ll give me bragging rights, but because I’ve always wanted to catch the morning sun. It was all I could do to not take the circuitous route to work each morning by heading due east instead of south. I never did. Not in the thirteen years I’d been reporting to two companies in the same office “park”. Shame.
At First Light
You just have to see the morning light when it reflects off of the ocean from behind a storm cell. I can’t explain it here but have left you with a facsimile that does it no justice. Trust me. You really can’t see what the light cast, just what the camera lens took in. Isn’t it amazing that there’s no substitute for firsthand experience? I’m sort of glad my photo turned out flat and less colorful because it makes the actual experience much more fantastic in contrast.
Onward and Eastward
In another life, I believe I may have been a nesting loggerhead. My homing system has the same inexorable pull toward the unknown and the vast even as I shrink at the thought of what could happen there. Judging from the number of wannabe mermaids taking pre dawn strolls directly into the sea, the beach is a popular place to enjoy braving the elements. I’m working my way up to my first dip under empty sky and morning stars.
Are you one to dare the universe? I mean in small or large ways. Like maybe you tip toe your hot cup of coffee across the room despite the full realization that it’s likely to spill? Or maybe while driving you glance down at your lap to pick up that french fry lost mid bite. That’s you, daring the universe. Aren’t you a wild child!
So what’s the difference between intentionally increasing our chances of being scalded or causing an accident versus sailing blindly and headlong into our wildest dreams? Why does one seem safer than the other? Could it be that one activity is part of a routine and therefore is in the realm of the cozy idea of “the familiar”? And is that just another way we become entrenched in the idea of a sustained self who does and will always do things a certain way? Or likes only particular things?
I’ll leave you with that sidebar of a philosophical quandary. I’ve got plenty of them to fill my time lately.
Now. Back to the business of being busy. It seems that I suddenly have errands piling up as fast as dirty laundry. There are appointments to be scheduled, papers to sign, forms to complete. Oh, and blog posts to write. My days post sun peeping and the subsequent hour-long walk on the shore feels awfully diffuse and unplanned even though I keep a schedule in my bullet journal where I take colorful notes. On everything. Each day is so bereft of regular tasks that my mind wants to stuff the cavern of thought with urgent “things to do”. Ha! Thoughts are so ridiculously self-centered!
Filling the Cavern
Is it possible that we follow our routines not because they’re comfortable exactly, but simply and only because they help us to escape the unknown? Rather than moving toward our daily grind, is it possible that we are instead perpetually trying to move away from experiencing adventure in our lives? Could this be the real reason we crave vacations? I mean, maybe they’re not meant so much as a ‘recharge’, but as an excuse to get a little heady about the unknown for just a short while. As long as we know it will come to an end, that is.
And then we mourn the end.
Paradox. Life loves Paradox.
Did you know that Royal Terns gather in the morning to face the sea and sing to each other? Me neither.