T What a wonderful book end and opening to this day. Happy New Year!
Yesterday evening I donated clothes and food, collected during the last workshop Bringing Text to Action, to The Los Angeles Mission, and then as planned, drove to Santa Monica beach to have dinner with my self and celebrate the end of my six days of fasting.
It was later than I wanted to leave the city and I had missed the sunset. I hit the fog on the I-10, which was nerve-racking due to the people speeding and swerving; it was only 5:30pm. I almost called it quits, but I woke up with this plan in mind and was determined to see it through. Eventually, I made it to the beach and found a great parking spot that was free!
The dinner I prepared was tightly packed in my childhood boy scout knapsack. I imagine now that I looked like a grown man about to go explore the unknown. If I had remembered that my recently purchased flashlight was in the trunk of my car, I might have gotten it, but I found a nice bench and sat in peace and quiet, thankful for the food I was about to eat. Brown rice, steamed broccoli, carrots, white corn, with butter, salt, pepper, with 2 sliced links of Trader Joe’s Chicken Andouille sausages mixed in. An Apple for dessert.
I couldn’t see much further in front of me than 10 feet in diameter. Trekking through the fog and sand I began to make my way toward the water just to see it. The sound was overwhelming and calling me to it.
It took a while to get there. Along the way I discovered a little boy hanging upside down on a pull-up bar. I was trying to take a picture of the palm trees in the fog with my camera phone – no luck. The woman, not a little boy, then asked me to take a photo of her by the palm trees. I replied, “Do you have a camera [because my camera is not so good]?” She first replied, “You have it!” and then realized I was not “Sergio” as had I realized that she was not a little boy but the mother of the little girl with headphones on singing happily out of tune. Amusing. We couldn’t see each other clearly and yet we were close.
I continued further, towards the shore and discovered a row of hanging hand rings. I thought this was an interesting sign, perhaps to build strength for the obstacles that are to come; have fun so that you can endure the journey; and remember your past so that you know how you arrived to this point of happiness.
I saw a trash can that read “Glass in Trash, Toes in Sand.” I thought “Leave your Fragile self behind, all that would break do not take with you.” It also reminded me of a sermon a pastor gave about walking through Heaven’s door. “Leave your baggage behind. You can not enter with it. The door is narrow.” Precious. I could hear the waves cleaning rhe shore.
I began to walk toward the bright light of the Ferris Wheel.
Standing still, screams from children on the roller coaster were heard and the sound of the waves grew louder. Was this some sort of competition? I was frightened. I called my friend for comfort, but also to share this amazing experience immediately. I questioned whether I had ruined this moment by making the phone call, but I just stayed there. Laughing and Jumping about like a five-year-old dodging the icy waters. Eventually, holding the phone became too much. I ended the call and took it all in.
I was inspired with awe. I had been called to this beach all day long. Thankful I did not turn around. The waves were crashing but all that could be seen was the water coming upon the shore. It was a half-moon and that made me think, “Would it be whole in a year?”
I was attracted to the light of the ferris wheel. It was blinking different colors, patterns, it was mesmerizing. I wondered if this was “the light” I should be walking toward. It seemed comfortable and familiar. Childhood innocence arose. “Am I to be walking away from my childhood and into unknown territories of adulthood?”
All of these questions. “Did I just check into my HOME? My core? Essence? Is this at the heart of me, and does that mean that every thing outside and away from it is an acquired extension? How do I know? What do I know?”
Sitting “Know Thy Self.”
This was only the beginning of my night.