Treading concrete down the pathway in the South Bay semi-sunshine, I notice people moving along on bicycles, jogging, rollerblading, some just strolling. I wonder where they plan on going. Are they on their way or on their way back? Questions blow into my mind with the ocean breeze kissing my cheeks. I feel loved as I watch the big Western Gulls dip in and out of the water, perching on the pier to have a little bird talk. I try to instigate a conversation with one who lands a couple of paces from me. Our eyes meet and we say so much, words can’t handle every communication. A flip-flap of wings, my stride returns and we go on our way.
I smile at passersby as I pass them by. I see them see me through the veneer of my shades. I welcome a conversation without speaking. Is it possible to breathe in waves of earnestness enough to elicit spoken words from others when little noise is heard? I fly above myself scanning the shoreline for more time to just be and see. Flecks of concrete mingle with sands sans litter and bitter regrets. I watch fishermen with my x-ray vision swishing sea creatures into nets offshore. It’s hard to ignore the simple catechism of beach life. I feel and I follow those deep engrained truths that are almost impossible to spoof.
Near the end of the jetty, I watch white water splashes against the rocky slopes. I feel myself being pulled into the abyss of openness with no ropes. It’s easy to cope by taking breaths and steps toward the rest, leaving my mind ready to be filled like an empty gourd.
I retreat from the rocks back to the smooth sands as the sun headbands my forehead. Warmth comforts my thoughts and I walk and walk and walk by people and seagulls and bikes. Volleyballs bounce on nets while people lie in the sand. I stop and sit and read from my screen—how odd this new technological scheme is. I flip my finger across the tablet to turn the pages, while I sift through lines of characters that emit conflict. I experience the emotional spectrum while I sit in this natural lectern with wind calming my mind, listening to the withdrawal of the tide. My mind is open wide. Time passes with my meditation, time-passing sensations glaze my eyes, and I breathe deeply, changing my focus to the sky. This writer’s life really is do or die.