Monday, April 4, 2011
Reflections on a simple day off.
What's life worth if you can't step back from it occasionally and just observe?
How can you feel the power of context if you don't put yourself in different places?
In the eye of the storm, days may seem very long, but the years are getting shorter. My recent birthday brings that home even more. And even this quadruple type-A personality's tank gets a little empty now and then.
So for the first time in I can't recall how long (other than recuperating from surgery, which just doesn't count) I took a simple day off just for me. No family obligations. Just a day for me. Here's what I now know to be true, after this simple day:
The best time to shop for groceries is Monday morning. Everything's fresh and you can park closer.
There are gold specks in the sand on the beach. They are the same color gold I see in my bangs, blown into my eyes by the ocean breeze.
Two flocks of cormorants can fly directly at each other, bank on the wind and miss any wing or other contact completely. Perfect engineering in motion.
Their shadows fly up the side of the cliffs, the shape of the land making it appear they are turning inland, when they are really flying straight up the coastline. Imperfect human perception at work, fooled by the shape of the earth.
People are happier when they walk the beach, including the woman who exclaimed, "I found a bonanza" as she passed me, her hands full of barnacle-encrusted shells and rocks. I found my own 1/4 mile further down the beach, in a piece of corral with tide-worn shells attached.
The public restroom at the beach makes a perfect pit stop for motorbike riders - in and out in under 5 minutes and no need to buy a coffee to feel polite. Note to self on our next ride.
The waves keep coming.
I can see, smell and hear more than usual. And it took me less than a morning to turn down the velocity, and turn up the observations.