The ocean calls to us all.

The ocean calls to us all.  The beach beckons.  The dawning sky a revelation of seashells on the shore gifted to us with the tide.   

The sun, the sky, the ocean, the shore – the four elements of life.  Earth, air, fire, and water.  Complete in one spot and rich with the ions that bring us a sense of peace and well-being.  The ocean calls to us all. 

A perfect locale.  All of creation revels in the sand, sea, and sun.  All of creation floats as if in the womb in the water beyond the breakers.  All of creation marvels at the wonder of moon pull and sun shine.   

To see dolphins leap, fish in the shallows, birds swooping and swirling, and, when we’re lucky, a stag enjoying a brisk afternoon swim is to see the planet for what it is – a place that teems with life, that is pure, mystery mixed with a bit of magic.  This is our planet.  Our being the dolphins and the birds and the stag and the fish and all creatures great and small including us.   

Dappled sunlight on the surface of the water causes the dolphins to leave a trail of sparkle when they leap.  Is it not sad that humans leave a wake of ruin and debris as we move. 

But not always.  Sometimes we humans leave a trail of art or a trail of love or a trail of charity.  We are not evil, but we are misguided.  We focus on the wrong things.  We forget that the ocean calls to us all to be complete, to be artists, to be art — to drift along in the beauty we’ve been given.  To get back to the elements of sea, sun, sky, and shore.  The tide swells rocking us like a mother with a baby. 

Our brain waves sync with the rhythm and we become united with the sea, the sand, the wind.  We coexist – we do not rule.  We do not ruin.  We do not improve.  We just are.  Just breathe. 

Let the sea call to us all like a preacher in a country church calling sinners to the altar.  Let us find forgiveness and peace and discover our place in the universe.  To leave a trail of love amidst the beauty given to us. 

Outlier

At this stage of life, I am realizing that the social conditioning of my youth has not been good for me. I was fed attitudes, opinions, and beliefs that were not my own but were presented as right and proper. Men were to be catered to, a woman’s role was to care for her husband and children, authority was to be obeyed, God was omniscient –not just saw everything but willed it into being.

Photo by Will Myers on Unsplash

Consequently, I think I was an intellectual cripple until my 40s when my blinders were ripped off by the circumstances of life. My marriage was failing, my son was grown, and authority was abysmally wrong on so many things.

It all came to a head in 2002 as I entered my last year of full-time college.  I had dropped out when young and unfocused and hampered by my social conditioning, but returned in my late 30s when I was restless and confident there was more to life than I’d been led to believe.  Sociology, anthropology, and philosophy classes taught me to question everything I had been indoctrinated with.  It was tumultuous, but also comforting. It wasn’t too late to have a meaningful life.  I could still achieve self-actualization.

I had always been told I could do anything, and I felt guilty for not having achieved much. But in retrospect, that was just pablum fed to me as everything else directed me to be a plaything, a servant, a doormat.  How can you be anything when you are busy finding and maintaining a husband, a home, a child, and a job all while looking good and cooking delicious meals.

That return to college in the late 90s created a line in my life.  What happened before and what happened after.  I have been far happier with the after in spite of trials and tribulations.

The difference has been I have ignored that early conditioning.  But I feel like a maverick—an outlier.  I need to unlearn that shit completely.  Wipe it from my memory banks so that I can look aghast at all the other social conditioning that I’ve been subjected to and just don’t realize yet. The first 40 years of my life culminated in my understanding that authority had been wrong and I had been hoodwinked. The past 24 years have taught me there is a bottomless depth of bullshit installed in my head – much of it I’m probably still unaware it’s there and ticking.  Yes, ticking, like a bomb to catch me unaware and unready for the challenges to come — aging, eldercare, and all the other still unknowns. Lord only knows what’s in my head waiting to unleash misery and mayhem due to early teachings.  I need to unlearn that bullshit now.  Now.

Anything Can Be

Anything can be.  Aren’t those lovely words? Strictly speaking, they’re not true – there are some things I just can’t be.  I can’t be an astronaut, Miss America, or a brain surgeon.  But there are so many things that I can do.  All my life, I wanted to be a writer.  I said I would write when this or that eased up, or when I had something to say, or after my child was grown, or I didn’t have to work any long, or or or.

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Donnie’s Wake

Donnie talked about Pocahontas County all the time. Camping there. I wasn’t interested. We were neck deep in converting the barn and my whole life was a primitive camping trip. I didn’t think I needed to wander into the Wild and Wonderful to experience more awkward cooking attempts and uncomfortable sleeping arrangements. My life was full of such.

She continued to wax poetic. Lyrical, an ode to the Williams River and I told her I was sure it was beautiful. But declined.

And then she was diagnosed with breast cancer. And then it metastasized before we were even able to process the news.

She wanted a last trip to the river. And we agreed to go along.

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