If you are a close reader of this blog – well, first of all, I thank you. And if you are a really close reader of this blog, you might have noticed that lately I’ve been a bit less reliable than I was during those months when I was traveling a lot and working very little. I’m sorry about that; this job that I started a little more than a month ago has me feeling underprepared, exhausted, overwhelmed…and energized, curious, and invigorated.
As I adjust to the job, though, and as I get used to life in this different spot, I find that I have little energy for thinking creatively about how what I experience on a daily basis could make an interesting piece of writing for others. Thus, there are times when I have felt surprisingly blank when I sit down to write something new. Rather than force it, I’ve decided to let it be, for now.
Still, I’m not satisfied with that. I imagine that there is always something that I could come up with to say, even if it’s built of few words and many pictures. This morning is a good example. I wanted to get to work early, and so I sat down and quickly typed out about 500 disjointed words. I ran out of time before I was finished, though, so I abandoned the project for the moment, promising myself that I’d return at the end of the day.
By the time I returned, though, I’d been reminded of why I live where I do. I live in what must be one of the most beautiful places in the United States; when I have a stressful or hard day, like today, I have the chance to wander down to the ocean to find my grounding again.
It’s a beautiful place, especially when the sun is setting and the clouds are scattering.
Sometimes I walk the beach just to remember how wonderfully small I am. It’s rejuvenating to regain the perspective that as much as I fret and worry, the ocean continues its uniquely rhythmic undulations.
I run to the ocean in the mornings, just because I need to; it reminds me to go slowly in the day ahead, and not worry too much.
Today I walked the shore with a spirit of curiosity, and in that spirit, it seemed to me very much like a playground. Who needs a shovel and bucket when there are such marvels?
Can you find the squirrel here, among the wild succulents? What about the Naked Ladies?
There are so many things I do not know. Having not grown up on the shore of any ocean, there is a part of me that wants to remain ignorant, just because the mysteries of the world are so few, in this Age of Information. But at the same time, I want to know everything I can.
My instinct suggests this might be poisonous, but I picked it up anyway, and seem to be fine. No guts, no glory; no harm, no foul.
For a while I followed a line through the sand, one not bordered consistently by human footprints. What made the line? I cannot know. I found a small, white scrap that was both delicate and shark-like; could it have belonged to such an animal? Hard to imagine such a find. I picked up three different sand dollars, all complete, in varying sizes, including a tiny, perfect creation. Could humans make such beauty?
The thoughts arrived and disappeared, and I walked on. There are so many things to see.
Five fingers, five points. Balancing this starfish on the remnants of two crabs, and delivering it back into the water, seemed like the right thing to do.
The ocean carries on. I’ll try to check in more often from now on. Thank you for your presence, and for your patience.
The Wandering Introvert 