"There's a reason they call it Ocean Shitty," said a friend in a group conversation. I was right there and my friend was aware that my family and I vacation there every year, and that we were about to leave this year.
This was a reminder to return to appreciation.
I appreciate Maryland's ocean for what it is, for our proximity to it, and for the fond memories I associate with it.
I remember driving to the beach for the day, many a times, when we were unable to stay overnight.
I remember the first time I pranced down the boardwalk with a friend at 14/15 years of age, "by ourselves", feeling the rush of freedom and a youthful pride in my newly developed body.
I remember the exhilaration of swimming out into the ocean and switching bikinis in the deep.
More recently, with my current family of 3, I remember the magnetism of the most engaging street performer I have ever seen; Source, in human form, entrancing crowds with his magic, wit and racy humor. Man's charisma blew the furrowing brows off my face. He was an example to my son of living, and making your living, in alignment with your gifts... bringing to our attention a variant of power--spontaneously spreading joy and creating connection--that is largely unacknowledged in mainstream society... certainly not seen outside of the framework of a bona fide degree, decree or profession.
Again on the boardwalk, we happened upon a human display of talent and ingenuity that would light up Life in anyone... a one man band, complete with duct tape and PVC pipes and who played and sang masterfully... without any master-like seriousness. A refreshing delight. If it were only me out that night, I would've watched him until his sharing came to a close.
Both performers were aged to perfection, having entered the space of agelessness. Both performers left me lifted; a tug pulling up from my sternum, an upturning of the corners of my lips, a lightening and loosening of the grip of my mental insistence/resistance.
And who could forget the majesty of the ocean. Transparent, translucent or more on the side of opaque; waves or smoothed still, sand dark to light, water temperate or polar...
For me, an ocean is an ocean, is an ocean, is an ocean. Kind of like humans that way. Kind of like One in another way. So vast that though we can see where water meets sky in horizon, we cannot see the actual end point; the breadth and depth. But we can feel the power of its embrace.
***As for that friend's commentary, I am aware that it comes from a need for significance and belonging. We all have the need for belonging and significance. And as I see it, most everything we do is driven by our needs... often by an accumulation of experiencing our needs as unmet. I sure as shit have habitual patterns driven by these such accumulations. So again, as with every post... we are joined in our shared humanity.
*An aside - While I see public statements/actions as fair game for writing, intimate dialogue stays private and/or utterly anonymous. I seek pre-approval for posts like Fly B*tch, Fly -- 1997 Poem, that may include sensitive issues for others. My intention is to write through the "I" lens, sharing my direct experiences, in hopes that they are relatable for others and call to our attention to our interconnectedness.
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