  “If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them. " Henry David Thoreau Wednesday : I looked solemnly at my calendar and thought, I need an assistant. I knew in spite of my intentions that I would not be tackling all of it. I was overly ambitious, and today I felt sort of dreamy and quiet. I think today was a day to ease into things, finding consciousness and attentiveness, instead of busy pace and frantic thoughts.
Last night ended with real time email with Boy at work. Sweet words were exchanged, but I still sat in the fog of unknowing and wondered if, when it all cleared, is he the man I thought he was? Or was this just another one of those times of evolution where, in revealing new information, everything seems unruly and wild and bleak? As we “talked” via email I could tell he was suffering. His way doesn’t look like my way, but it’s just as valid. I decide knowing what I know about him, it was time to let it go and move on.
Some things said in that time will stay, but I’m not ready to walk away and neither is he. Eventually, I call him at work and he answers his own phone with navy speak. Couldn’t even wait for his secretary to do it when he saw my number come up. Love that about him. Hearing his voice brought me so much comfort. I feel a little renewed and a little swimmy, but the day takes on a new color and texture.
I watch kitties bonding over kitty grass. Happily sharing pieces of grass nose to nose. I remember to eat lunch, which normally doesn’t happen without an actual lunch hour. Crunchy sweet red bell peppers that I cut up and eat like potato chips. I practice the art of mindfulness to take me through my day, trying to focus on one thing at a time. Mindfulness is not something that we do much, because life has begun to revolve around multi-tasking.
I am not allowed to multi-task, that’s one big thing that makes my mind swimmy, but I have a hard time breaking old habits. Today, I don’t research markets, listen to music, have CNN on mute but try to keep up, make breakfast/lunch, read and respond to email, check my planner and make phone calls all at the same time. Today, I do one thing until it’s finished and move on to the next. Ideally, there is no music or tv even while doing that one thing, but since that makes me even battier than multi-tasking, I allow music. I have to take my own advice. I have to take my own advice.
I have to take my own advice. It’s a mantra. I say, be gentle with yourself. Do something nice for yourself. In the spirit of that, I paint nails berry colors and schedule an appointment for some girlie stuff for tomorrow. I do my best to do one thing at a time.
When my body says, stop, you are pushing, I stop. If my body says sleep, I sleep. No guilt for once, just taking care of what I’m supposed to. A long discussion with my trauma specialist today, J. , confirms that I, in fact, have still not come to terms with who I was before the accident and who I am now. The journey continues. Hence, I believe, the reason for the continuing pelting of one thing after another.
To make me listen. To make me fully comprehend the message. I can do this. I’m a rock star, I say, I got this far. Thursday : Conversations and letters with the Boy start to smooth out the rough edges. Although, really disturbing developments are erupting in his world.
Things that could change everything. He signs the email, “I miss you, too, girl.” I trace the words on the screen because I can’t touch his face. What is it about that word? Girl. I love that. I, obviously, call him boy but he’s never called me that before.
Until now. He’s the southern one here, so this strikes me as funny. Things are on my mind still. Once I tell him I love it, he makes sure to do it more often. See? Just good, this one.
My boy. Where we stand. What it all means. Should I even care. What is happening with him (more on this to come). I come back to my belief that I’m happy now.
I’m happy with him, even though I’m really without him. I’d rather miss him then not have him in my life at all. I make the intention that I will let the past go, move on from here, and continue to let it all happen how it’s going to. It’s not easy, but it is worth it. Even with my intention, I still need a few minutes of escape. Find that center and regroup.
Being mindful has all kinds of benefits, one is what I call recess. If I can’t actually take a drive or get outside, I go there in my mind and let my imagination fill in every detail I can’t remember. It’s like crafting a visual story in my mind, not a movie or a painting, but a story. The other night, I took that drive I talked about to clear my head. I turn on the car and pull out into the cool humid night air. Immediately I feel lifted up.
Smiling, I pull away letting Joss Stone embrace me and start the story board. She’s singing, “I’ve Fallen in Love With You” and it fills my car and sweeps me up. The most amazing vocal. The beach at night. My quiet place. Sanctuary.
I was gone for a long time. I drove down the freeway, fast, letting the air sweep out all the questions and endless thoughts that pester my poor overworked mind. I smile, Joss sings me my soundtrack, and I get off on the Grand exit to head down to Pacific Beach. I love this beach. It’s not a busy night down here, so I park and walk around. It’s dark, no moon, and the waves break into bright white foam out of a black still sky married to the dark blue ocean.
I wonder at how they keep coming, as if from no where, just like a gift from the sky. The sky has few clouds, just enough to accent it’s darkness. A thin wispy veil of clouds cover the sky, like sheer nylon, but all the stars are still peeking through. I closed my eyes and took in the sound. I will never again be away from this, my ocean, my serenity. The sound of the waves breaking is enough to calm me and bring me comfort.
I look up at the stars. It’s too close to the city to see them all well, but there is enough to pick out a few constellations. One star, shining the brightest, is obviously a planet. I wondered which one, and then smiled knowing that I bet my sailor knew. I wonder if he could see it where he was. I wonder if he could see it where he was going.
To my right is the pier. It’s funny, I lived here for a long time and never went there until recently. It was just before sunset, that’s when it closes, and a few folks were meandering around the pier looking out at the view and taking pictures. The pier is covered with little white beautiful cottages that are so lucky to be sleeping over the ocean every night. The sound and the smell and the midst of the water enveloped them. I wondered if the people inside knew how lucky they were to have the ocean to sing them to sleep every night.
I walk down the pier, becoming more and more aware of the boards being a half an inch or so apart. I was looking down as I walked and catching glimpses of the ocean crashing against the pillars under the pier. This makes me a little nervous, but I concentrate on walking and tell myself that I will not miss the details. I get to the end of the pier, walk straight ahead, and suddenly is really is just me and the ocean. The ocean is doing that great blue vastness thing that it does, and I am asking it…what of me, dear ocean? Is my happiness vast?
Is it all possible? The blue water remains quiet and I smile, yes, the answers are here to be found. The water is peppered with surfers, sitting and waiting for the perfect wave. The people on the pier look at them and see they are looking out into the vastness and seem to be waiting for someone to come over the horizon. They look at the surfers, then look at the horizon, then look back at the surfers as if their body language or facial expressions would convey something to them. The wind was picking up now, and the waves were getting bigger.
They began to slam into the pier and break into the pillars underneath. It began to sway with the water, quite dramatically. I took a quick intake of breath and said….it’s not an earthquake….it’s not an earthquake. I stood there until the sun went down thinking about how perfect a moment can be, spent in silence and absent intense thought. This night on my drive, I drove through Point Loma and Ocean Beach. I got lost a half a million times, but that just took me through the little beach side neighborhoods with the small cute little Spanish houses with big paned windows and chairs on every front porch.
Ocean Beach has remained a little beach city. Quirky and real, not dressed up and sophisticated. Great place. I told the Boy all about it. I wanted to write him with every detail. I sat in my car, right the boardwalk wall…almost right at water’s edge.
There was a pier on my left that had some stragglers. It was late at night, but even so, PB would not be this quiet. I watched the water lap up over the sand in the yellow-orange lights that stood tall above the boardwalk. The water was so close and the light hit just so, that the water looked fat and puffy and round, like the stickers we put on things as children in school. In this minute, I was absorbed. I was one with the rhythm of the water.
My mind was clear. It was brilliant. 
