Beach Day Valentine

Beach Day Valentine

During the summer I try to go to the beach every weekend. It’s about a thirty minute drive. It seems wrong not to go that often. The ocean is the best thing going in Los Angeles. Hands down, the very best thing. And the weather. The two together are peanut butter and jelly. 

When I first moved here, 19 years ago, I was bemoaning the lack of big, leafy trees, the lack of deciduous forest. Do you know what that is? It’s what they have on the East Coast and in Europe. It’s the type of tree that sheds it’s leaves every season and gives you autumn. It doesn’t happen without a lot of rain. California is more desert -y than deciduous. We don’t have to shovel snow and wear mittens, but we also don’t get much tree canopy. The sun is always present. For a while I was longing for shade and forest. Oh woah is me, how can I be happy? Where can I go for long walks and reflection? The location nearest me with the highest portion of wet nature was the beach. So, as the song says, if you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with. Well guess what, I married the one I was with and I’ve never been happier.

Some of this is due to discovering the boogie board. The alliteration makes it sound goofy and there are no other phrases for it, but boogie boarding is the most spiritually enjoyable thing in the whole world. To Boogie Board is to become one with the ocean. It is to dial in all your senses to the rhythm of the ocean. You watch the waves, you hear them, you feel them, you anticipate them. You are trying to catch them, so you can ride them. In that moment you and the wave merge, you are the ocean, with all its power, its consistency, its vastness. The motion wipes all petty concerns from your tired, over amped monkey mind, and you just fly through the water, all senses completely in harmony. For a brief while, there are no human problems. 

After I tire myself out, I eat a sandwich. It tastes so good. Then I watch the ocean for a while. I watch the people play. Humanity is at its absolute best at the ocean. Everyone is happy. You don’t haul yourself out there if you don’t want to be there, so the people who get grumpy and uptight about sand in their ass self-select out. The scene is incredibly diverse. Children playing, old people relaxing, young people being hot, married people playing paddle ball, groups of friends laughing it up over whatever bonds them together. It’s marvelous. It’s harmonious. It’s soul regenerating. It’s the opposite of being online. It’s the opposite of reading the news. 

After digesting, I take myself for a long walk. I could look at wet sand and rolling water forever. I don’t know why. It just appeals to be. As an artist I like theme and variation. This is that. The beach is like my therapist. I peruse the thoughts that need untangling and I get a grip on myself. 

Coincidently, while writing this, my favorite blogger, Dyske.com, also wrote about the beach. His wife loves to go, and he does not. It was interesting to be confronted by his complete lack of interest in my favorite activity. It forced me to consider that not everyone reading this would relate. Why does that make me feel weird? I already know that. Besides my immediate family, I don’t know anyone who goes on and on and on and on about the beach as much as me.

What I find at the beach, other people find elsewhere and that is as it should be. The world is filled with wonders, natural and manmade. The important thing is to partake of what brings you genuine joy as often as you can. Don’t chose a lesser option when you can choose joy.

Future Eraser – What a Waster

How did I waste my time before web surfing?  I can’t remember.  I’ve always read a lot so I probably just laid down and killed an hour in whatever book I was reading. Even if one hour was three hours, I was progressing through a singular creative endeavor.  There was a beginning, middle and an end.  Even an accomplishment of sorts, the number of books read in this lifetime went up a tick.   Now I find myself unspooling yards of precious time ravenously consuming information; topical, political, gastronomical, self helpful, musical, criminal, reviewing, critiquing, criticizing, maligning, malignant and benign.   A deeply unsatisfying hobby that never completes, never fulfills, makes me feel shitty and yet lures me like a cat stalking a laser pointer light. As long as I am there, I am nowhere else.  Apparently I really really want that, if actions speak louder than words and what not.  I can control it if I try but because I am on the computer all day, the e-portal to Future Oblivion is where I find myself when professional responsibilities end and domestic responsibilities begin. That intersection is a bitch for me.  I have hard time going from virtual to physical. But wasting time web surfing is like leaving dog shit on the sidewalk of transition.  The smelly remains of crap linger.