thoughts from the porch (still on the beach) ‘world’s apart’…

thoughts from the porch (still on the beach) ‘world’s apart’…

what a strange turn of events this vacation has been, I come here to escape the masses and now they are here en masse, at least compared to this time of year most years, so where can I escape to? the only refuge left, as the bars and restaurants rev up, as the cars line up, the beach becomes a haven, most folks I suppose look for the sun and sand, I am more for the sound of the shore, the hotel pool bar is in full swing as I walk by, some country song is blaring, I couldn’t tell you which one, not my scene, I get to the boards that lead off to the beach, take off my shoes where the boards disappear into the dunes, no need to get them full of sand, the sand is cold, expected, I walk away from the direction of the town, as the sounds fade into the forward sound of the ocean crashing, I find the line just beyond where civilization has no longer hold on the audio, the beach is still lit from backdrop behind me, but here I am, just deep enough on the beach to blank out the world, only a matter of feet, but that is all that matters, I here some voices here and there in the dark, but no one approaches, or if they do they are mere shadows, what I mistake for a person turns out to be the warning sign for the jetty, all the artificial light behind me, all the smiles, the laughs, the music, all the normal draw, but here I am more enamored with the stars, and even the stardust in between, there seems to be motion, for surely there is, but the earth is also moving, spinning, so which of these is? both I suppose, but only my perception sitting here on the cold sand, I bury my bare feet in, I feel like I am evaporating into the sky, actually perceiving the world draining me into that expanse, something I have felt before, like those first nights of cold as you watch your breath take form, except this is like smoke, mist or steam, streaming off of my soul, but no panic, only calm, to become part of the cosmos, the possibilities, for as ancient as the ocean is, there is only so much to this marble, as amazing as she is, I wish to travel to the stars, in whatever form, past this limited life, there must be more, or I hope there is more, the answers, or even uncontemplated questions out there, up there, I feel the pull…
running my hands through the sand, reminds me of sandcastles, how we would build them on the water’s edge, always thinking we could out smart or out maneuver the ocean, never thinking for a minute we would lose, youthful optimism (some may say naivete, I say no), maybe that is just who I am, or always was, even now, that I know the inevitabilities, I still fight for the sandcastles, dredge trenches to oppose the incoming tide, for what else is there?
the beach looks lunar at night, frozen footprints from those who have been, the same stars, no sounds from animals, the birds have gone to sleep, craters and valleys all around, the same color, the same bland color all around, the only savior, here at least, the sound, the constant purr of the evening ocean sliding beneath the dunes, the tune that surely is the oldest known, to all land
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beach musings part two…

beach musings part two…

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

the road to purity (that is the term that popped into my head and inspired this post), or the better version (or best) of one’s self, is this just a path to destruction or salvation, or is it a matter of perspective, I spent the whole of the week walking along a beach, cradled in a spider web hammock of self introspection, I mean what else do you do on the beach, oh yeah, normal people, swimming, tanning, a touch of volleyball perhaps (I was a bit more into kadima ball and kites I must confess, back in the day), not me, well, not anymore, somehow the shore has become my temple, my church, my place to unpack the world and move in with just me for a time, an extended sunday morning as sunday is the traditional day of rest so I’m told, the sound of the surf becomes a lullaby for an overactive mind, a drug administered by mother nature in kind, just as intoxicating as any chemical otherwise known by mankind, I am truly moved to a different plane of existence, everything just sheds, or is washed away, glaciers sheer off so easily, alone with my thoughts, conversations I should have had long ago, or did and forgot them, or they have been obscured in the so called real world, no shiny distractions here, no plethora of channels of niche information to browse, the reality of life, the cycle, birds, fish, insects and plants – your breath, all engaged in being what they are or what they were born to be, so odd, us humans, we have the right to decide what version of ourselves in which we reside, and I guess I know, at moments like this, I am not living up to my end of the bargain, the bargain of life that I have been gifted in this limited, there is only so many things you can do with this realization, be better, get better or just accept that perhaps you are not quite the lion on the golden hill you might have thought or were told, but am I shorting the world…? and myself, for not going all out, and where down the road does that mate with actuality indeed, as I walk here among all the broken shells, some seem familiar, a pattern of at once perfect forms of life laid now in tatters, all these thoughts flood my matter, no one will ever know, except this inner-verse that I am conversing with now, I suppose it is this way with everyone, even those we think have the perfect life, from the outside, who knows who they really are unless you walk in their skin for awhile, along a beach, see what washes up, hearing their thoughts, wearing their feet.