Wednesday, September 22, 2010

grip, part two

I know two guys who pilot airplanes. I don't think I could do that. I think it takes too much focus, but the last guy who talked about it with me, said it was a great way to not think about work. There is too much to do, his son sits right next to him and there are so many things to focus on he can't focus on anything else. If he thought about work he'd crash.

I get it. Or I get my version of it.

His flying is my writing. It is focusing on breath, letting the mind go wherever it decides to go. I think in writing you just casually walk behind the head, smile at the thoughts,jot them down and continue to follow. You let go, and it's quite beautiful.

I am obviously paying a price for this type of meditation. My relationships consist of checking the voicemail at about 11pm every night and returning calls at other parts of the next day, but it's tricky 'cause we are all working, going to school, doing our own thing. The evening calling plan, which used to be my norm as well, has become anything other than evening while typing to a friend, short bursts of did you call? This is not something I'm all that proud of, more like I try to figure out how to correct this situation.

So we go to The Love Festival.

We go to a wedding and out for drinks after.

We make plans to visit the ocean together.

We find ways to relax with each other.

We name our beach trip calling it "everyone take care of themselves, do what you need to do" beach trip. We don't make any group plans at the beach. We don't take care of each other at all. We simply let our mind wander out into the sea, following a bird over the wave, swimming alongside a boat with the sails full, laying facedown on a pier and watching as the fish swim to maintain their position while competing for food.

We speak to strangers fishing on a dock and find they have these incredible stories of life.

We relax and listen.

The steady hum of a boat motor, the lapping of water over itself. Conversations normally only happening in your own head become terms of agreement with friends.

So then you laugh. Laugh at the sheer joy of realizing someone else thought that exact same thing.

Later you wake up whenever you want to and tiptoe to a patio, taking refuge in the great expanse. It's still quite beautiful at 3am but now it's different. The ocean is so powerful it is actually circulating the air around you, blowing your hair, kissing your cheek. The movement of the water has changed as if it's now telling you a secret. A steady whisper of power.

I always used to say the ocean was as close as I could feel to God. For me it was as if that was as close as I could get to him saying This is how small you are. This is how fragile and precious life is. Know your value and know there is no greater or lesser in all that there is. It is all incredibly, fantastically, wonderfully, masterfully, how did it get so good, beautiful.

And now I am sitting here writing that.

Flying.

Writing.

Breathing.

Gratitude.

No comments: