One of the more profound experiences I had in NorCal was sitting on the beach with my son exploring in the sand. He came across a piece of driftwood buried but for a paper sized area just above the surface. He started digging at it to try and pull it up. After a few minutes the scope of the job (albeit still not fully in perspective) started to seem daunting to him and he came to a crossroads where I knew he wanted to finish the task, but he didn't think he could. So I egged him on, more out of a desire to see him do it than anything, so he set to sizing up the project. And holy hell, what a project it was. What looked like a reasonable sized piece of wood engulfed in the sand soon became a log roughly 8 feet long and about 12 inches in diameter. I am doing my best to be conservative with those figures. I think it was actually longer, but the actual size is really secondary at this point. He drug the surface of the log until he had the top exposed. It became VERY clear that this was going to be a two man show, and for the next minutes (maybe an hour) it was man against nature. Alex and I were set on undoing the great forces of the ocean that buried this log, so we began.
At first it seemed like we could extricate the object with some good use of cupped hands and dog-style digging. So there we were, two kids flinging sand back between our legs in a spray. Zip, zip, zip our hands dug into the sand and slowly we started to make progress. I'd like to say I looked up and saw that we were nearing completion, or were half way there. But no, we had just scratched the surface. We needed tools, and soon with pieces of driftwood in hand we had a fully functioning excavation site in progress. Pushing the top sand aside to keep it from falling into the trenches we were leaving. I must have had to stop a half dozen time and fight back the light headed feelings before returning to work.
Slowly, and painstakingly we made our way down one side, then the other. We dug up one end just enough to get a hand hold, and every few minutes I'd make another attempt at freeing the log from it's burial ground. And attempt after attempt I came up short. So back to work we'd go. Loosening more and more wet sand from the surface. Heaving great piles of sand aside, and digging deeper and deeper until at last I just knew I was gonna move it. I laced my fingers below the log and with a determined tug I pulled up and in an instant the log, now free from more chains still refused to budge. So, legs and back screaming. Lungs gasping for air, we set back to work. Again. Taking a short break to collect my strength, my son at my side, I approached the trunk of this baby redwood. Another mighty tug and then without warning the bounds gave way and suddenly I was holding the weight of this waterlogged tree in my grasp.
I looked down at Alex and saw him beaming with pride that we had done it. PERSEVERANCE Two men pitted their strength and more importantly their will against this object and only through determination did we overcome. That was the lesson I wanted him to learn. That if we had tried until we had nothing left. Collapsed in the sand, exhausted and still nothing, that would be admirable. But as long as we had fight left in us, we would fight. And standing there with that log in my grasp it became clear that we needed to send a little message to the body of water who put this here.
Doing my best world's strongest man imitation (Fingal Fingers FTW) I hefted the log to my chest and let the other end pivot. Slowly the log rose until it was vertical and with a mighty push I threw it onward toward the ocean. And again, and again, until finally the sand hardened and it could be rolled. And thank god for that because I don't know how many more lifts I had in me. So now, Alex and I took our places at each end, half kicking, half shoving the enormous log toward the surf. And soon enough, the first laps of the ocean touched the log, and with each outbound surge, he and I pushed the log further and further out, until finally with a surge, the ocean flowed beneath the log and lifted it, and carried it 20 feet back up the beach and deposited it unceremoniously there as if to mock us. So we pushed and rolled it back again until finally it was buoyant again. I congratulated him on a great job and marveled over our achievement and beat a quick retreat to higher ground lest the ocean give us the finger again.
I never saw that log again. I like to think that it is sailing across the waves miles out to sea. Even though more likely as the tide was INCOMING it just got pushed back up the beach again. But never mind that. For those moments we two men overcame nature and having risen to the challenge ran away before nature got her final say in.
PERSERVERANCE
"Failure after long perseverance is much grander than never to have a striving good enough to be called a failure." -George Elliot
"I do not think that there is any other quality so
essential to success of any kind as the quality of perseverance. It
overcomes almost everything, even nature." -John D. Rockefeller
"If your determination is fixed, I do not counsel you
to despair. Few things are impossible to diligence and skill. Great
works are performed not by strength, but perseverance." -Samuel Johnson
"Permanence, perseverance and persistence in spite of
all obstacle s, discouragement s, and impossibilities: It is this, that
in all things distinguishes the strong soul from the weak." -Thomas Carlyle
Friday, July 6, 2012
The Vacation Blues (But Not Really)
Howdy Ya'll from the hot and windy state of Texas. Wait.....what?!?!?!
Yeah, so fuck that. LOL
What's up my family and friends? Just back from vacation, and what a vacation it was. Two weeks driving up the California coast from San Diego to Fort Bragg. A wedding, a castle, an aquarium, a haunted house, a beach house, a good trip, a bad trip, and a great memory. Of course I came back 15 lbs heavier, but never mind all that for the moment...it's all (well mostly) just water. 5 pounds lost in the first night. WOOT!! J/K. But yes, my gustatory orgy is back in the cage and I'm back to the program.
A few things stand out to me from this trip that I'd like to share. Specifically some mental status changes and some ongoing revelations in the world of my journey to happiness. We all can relate to being a kid the night before Christmas. Well most can. Happy Hanukkah to my Jewish friends out there, and a Happy Festivus to the Rest of Us. Anyway, we want so badly to fall asleep that night because the wonders that we will behold the following morning are a dream, but a tangible one...just out of reach. That's sort of how I'm feeling lately. What I'm learning about myself, and specifically about where I want to "be" spiritually, physically, etc. is that the picture becomes more clear every day I work at it. Whether it's being able to drink a fine beer, or stand in the surf, or having a good trip, or even a bad one. My "reality" is that I can start to see what I want to become and so it casts into sharp contrast all the things that are either impediments to this cause, and those that yank me (uncomfortably at times) toward this sense of self. How the Christmas analogy ties in here is that I can see the tree, and the presents. The stockings hung with care. I know I'll be the first to wake (mostly because mom and dad were up late wrapping presents) and I'll light the fire, and there in my stocking will be a little something to entertain me for those early hours. I can see it all.
And now, in my life, I can see the "goal me". Lean and fit, and my ever quick wit. A writer, a learner, a lover. I see myself in the ocean, or in a boat atop it. Straddling a surfboard while the swell of the sea surges THROUGH me and I become one with it. Driving the 128 in a Ferrari, top down, Alex smiling so big I fear his lips will tear. A fire crackling, waves crashing, and night falling. Some of it is pedestrian, just the simple life incarnate, eyes closed and being one with my own happiness. Others are deep spiritual connections to those around me. The grains of sand, the spray of the ocean in the air, the birds, the future hamachi swimming in the deep, and the crucible of life in the stars. But all these feelings and experiences are me. They are the emanations and resonating waves of who I want to be for the remainder of my days. A man at peace with his life, with his place in this world, and mostly a true sense of fulfillment of the life where every waking moment is a gift.
Sometimes it just takes such a simple experience to shake our foundations, and folks, I had that last week. It has been years, maybe even decades since I really FELT the sea. Yeah, I've been to the beach, and sunk my feet into the surf. I've smelled the salt in the air, and heard the waves crash. But there has been a distance that I didn't realize in all this. Almost like a dream that seems like reality until you actually wake up and have the REAL experience. I was at 10 mile, and I felt an urge...a yearning pulling me into the waves. A vaguely familiar sensation was calling to me, and all I knew was the answer was "out there". So slowly I made my way into the waves. And with each step a chill washed over me. At first it was like the years were being washed away and my soul was being exposed naked to the sea, and then I realized that the "cold" was something far more expansive than my hazy mind. It was my body. And the cold. Was the fucking ocean. Not sure how many of you have waded out nipple deep in those pacific northwest seas with only a thin layer of board short protecting you, but yeah....I'm still waiting for my "parts" to return from hibernation. But I digress, as I often do. As I waded further and further into the surf, the waves morphed from the small splash hazards to the forceful tides pushing from the very depths of the sea. I had to fight them. I could feel the rip tide pulling my feet back out, while the curl slammed into my body, tossing me up with the surge and back down as the wave fell behind me. And yet, with every wave and every surge I grew bolder. Years of separation from the true nature of the sea were like a thick sheet of ice over a lake that with every step I took cracked and weakened. Until finally with a mighty crash I plunged through the ice into the wet beyond. A double wave lifted me and hurled me back toward shore and as my feet gained purchase in the sandy bed, I drove my head back above the water and with a surge of defiance I slashed at the water sending a spray toward the oncoming breakers. Come on ocean. I'm back, bring it. I can take it, let's start the dance again. And there I was, in my teens and early twenties, a young man with his future in front of him lost in the battle with this great and unyielding body.
There, in that moment I was home. And not in the physical sense, although that was a component of it. But I was home in the spiritual sense. My heart surging within my body and within the sea. And the sea surging in and around me. In a spiritual fantasy I could envision myself just pushing further and further into the surf, letting the music of nature grow louder and louder, and the dance careening wildly until at last with all my energy sapped I fell to rest in the bosom of the great pacific. Maybe it would cradle me and deliver me to the sand, or maybe it would devour me. But somehow neither of those two outcomes really speaks to me as "what I want" at least in so far as one would be better. They would just be like two different endings to the same great story. And yes, I just said I have a spiritual fantasy about playing in the ocean until my last breath leaves me and I slip beneath the waves and DIE. And yes, I am okay with that notion. I have a lot of life left in me, but this "fantasy" speaks to me and to how fundamental the ocean is to me, and in some ways how central nature and life is to me.
So when confronted with the "dream" life, much like laying in bed the night before Santa comes, it's way to easy to let the anxiety and urge to get there take root and lose focus. And in all reality I feel like I have come so far along my path to enlightenment that I just want to feel the realization of the journey already. Unfortunately this does add pressure that is counterproductive, but I'm learning to cope with it. I don't have the first idea how long it'll be until I wake up one day and standing in the shower I realize that I've arrived, but in the mean time I'm trying to dig my feet into the sand and push harder into the surf. Bring it on life, bring me the good and the bad and let me feel them flowing around me. Let the relentless surge of life and nature throw me from my feet as if to mock me. Petty human, you aren't in control here. But every time I find my footing, and every time as my head breaks the surface I'll roar back at life. YES I AM!!!!!!!!! I AM IN CONTROL!!!!!!! And while I may not be able to control the tides, nor the ebb and flow of life. I am in control of my part in them. 2011, I stood at the foot of the water and thought letting the ocean lap at my feet was connecting to the ocean, I thought it was connecting to life. 2012 I realize just how wrong I was. So I'm in it baby. Deep. And dammit, I will stand chest deep in all of it. With the trillions of gallons of water, and the billions of years of existence and the lump sum total of all time and place pushing at me. And I'll beg it to knock me off my feet. I'll swing mighty arcs across the surface as if to say "Come on!!!!" Bring on life, because living to me is that moment my feet take hold, and as I burst through the waves I breathe in and turn to face my next challenge, hoping all the while that this one will push me all the harder because I can take it. Finally, I'm ready to face the horizon...and the stars.
Yeah, so fuck that. LOL
What's up my family and friends? Just back from vacation, and what a vacation it was. Two weeks driving up the California coast from San Diego to Fort Bragg. A wedding, a castle, an aquarium, a haunted house, a beach house, a good trip, a bad trip, and a great memory. Of course I came back 15 lbs heavier, but never mind all that for the moment...it's all (well mostly) just water. 5 pounds lost in the first night. WOOT!! J/K. But yes, my gustatory orgy is back in the cage and I'm back to the program.
A few things stand out to me from this trip that I'd like to share. Specifically some mental status changes and some ongoing revelations in the world of my journey to happiness. We all can relate to being a kid the night before Christmas. Well most can. Happy Hanukkah to my Jewish friends out there, and a Happy Festivus to the Rest of Us. Anyway, we want so badly to fall asleep that night because the wonders that we will behold the following morning are a dream, but a tangible one...just out of reach. That's sort of how I'm feeling lately. What I'm learning about myself, and specifically about where I want to "be" spiritually, physically, etc. is that the picture becomes more clear every day I work at it. Whether it's being able to drink a fine beer, or stand in the surf, or having a good trip, or even a bad one. My "reality" is that I can start to see what I want to become and so it casts into sharp contrast all the things that are either impediments to this cause, and those that yank me (uncomfortably at times) toward this sense of self. How the Christmas analogy ties in here is that I can see the tree, and the presents. The stockings hung with care. I know I'll be the first to wake (mostly because mom and dad were up late wrapping presents) and I'll light the fire, and there in my stocking will be a little something to entertain me for those early hours. I can see it all.
And now, in my life, I can see the "goal me". Lean and fit, and my ever quick wit. A writer, a learner, a lover. I see myself in the ocean, or in a boat atop it. Straddling a surfboard while the swell of the sea surges THROUGH me and I become one with it. Driving the 128 in a Ferrari, top down, Alex smiling so big I fear his lips will tear. A fire crackling, waves crashing, and night falling. Some of it is pedestrian, just the simple life incarnate, eyes closed and being one with my own happiness. Others are deep spiritual connections to those around me. The grains of sand, the spray of the ocean in the air, the birds, the future hamachi swimming in the deep, and the crucible of life in the stars. But all these feelings and experiences are me. They are the emanations and resonating waves of who I want to be for the remainder of my days. A man at peace with his life, with his place in this world, and mostly a true sense of fulfillment of the life where every waking moment is a gift.
Sometimes it just takes such a simple experience to shake our foundations, and folks, I had that last week. It has been years, maybe even decades since I really FELT the sea. Yeah, I've been to the beach, and sunk my feet into the surf. I've smelled the salt in the air, and heard the waves crash. But there has been a distance that I didn't realize in all this. Almost like a dream that seems like reality until you actually wake up and have the REAL experience. I was at 10 mile, and I felt an urge...a yearning pulling me into the waves. A vaguely familiar sensation was calling to me, and all I knew was the answer was "out there". So slowly I made my way into the waves. And with each step a chill washed over me. At first it was like the years were being washed away and my soul was being exposed naked to the sea, and then I realized that the "cold" was something far more expansive than my hazy mind. It was my body. And the cold. Was the fucking ocean. Not sure how many of you have waded out nipple deep in those pacific northwest seas with only a thin layer of board short protecting you, but yeah....I'm still waiting for my "parts" to return from hibernation. But I digress, as I often do. As I waded further and further into the surf, the waves morphed from the small splash hazards to the forceful tides pushing from the very depths of the sea. I had to fight them. I could feel the rip tide pulling my feet back out, while the curl slammed into my body, tossing me up with the surge and back down as the wave fell behind me. And yet, with every wave and every surge I grew bolder. Years of separation from the true nature of the sea were like a thick sheet of ice over a lake that with every step I took cracked and weakened. Until finally with a mighty crash I plunged through the ice into the wet beyond. A double wave lifted me and hurled me back toward shore and as my feet gained purchase in the sandy bed, I drove my head back above the water and with a surge of defiance I slashed at the water sending a spray toward the oncoming breakers. Come on ocean. I'm back, bring it. I can take it, let's start the dance again. And there I was, in my teens and early twenties, a young man with his future in front of him lost in the battle with this great and unyielding body.
There, in that moment I was home. And not in the physical sense, although that was a component of it. But I was home in the spiritual sense. My heart surging within my body and within the sea. And the sea surging in and around me. In a spiritual fantasy I could envision myself just pushing further and further into the surf, letting the music of nature grow louder and louder, and the dance careening wildly until at last with all my energy sapped I fell to rest in the bosom of the great pacific. Maybe it would cradle me and deliver me to the sand, or maybe it would devour me. But somehow neither of those two outcomes really speaks to me as "what I want" at least in so far as one would be better. They would just be like two different endings to the same great story. And yes, I just said I have a spiritual fantasy about playing in the ocean until my last breath leaves me and I slip beneath the waves and DIE. And yes, I am okay with that notion. I have a lot of life left in me, but this "fantasy" speaks to me and to how fundamental the ocean is to me, and in some ways how central nature and life is to me.
So when confronted with the "dream" life, much like laying in bed the night before Santa comes, it's way to easy to let the anxiety and urge to get there take root and lose focus. And in all reality I feel like I have come so far along my path to enlightenment that I just want to feel the realization of the journey already. Unfortunately this does add pressure that is counterproductive, but I'm learning to cope with it. I don't have the first idea how long it'll be until I wake up one day and standing in the shower I realize that I've arrived, but in the mean time I'm trying to dig my feet into the sand and push harder into the surf. Bring it on life, bring me the good and the bad and let me feel them flowing around me. Let the relentless surge of life and nature throw me from my feet as if to mock me. Petty human, you aren't in control here. But every time I find my footing, and every time as my head breaks the surface I'll roar back at life. YES I AM!!!!!!!!! I AM IN CONTROL!!!!!!! And while I may not be able to control the tides, nor the ebb and flow of life. I am in control of my part in them. 2011, I stood at the foot of the water and thought letting the ocean lap at my feet was connecting to the ocean, I thought it was connecting to life. 2012 I realize just how wrong I was. So I'm in it baby. Deep. And dammit, I will stand chest deep in all of it. With the trillions of gallons of water, and the billions of years of existence and the lump sum total of all time and place pushing at me. And I'll beg it to knock me off my feet. I'll swing mighty arcs across the surface as if to say "Come on!!!!" Bring on life, because living to me is that moment my feet take hold, and as I burst through the waves I breathe in and turn to face my next challenge, hoping all the while that this one will push me all the harder because I can take it. Finally, I'm ready to face the horizon...and the stars.
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