Dear Reader,
Hey! I'm going to try something new! Clever, quirky titles before every post! Fresh and exciting!
OK. I'm probably going to live to regret this when I can't come up with anything other than "People I saw at K-Mart today" in a few months, but let's try it. Who knows? Maybe it'll work for me.
So, tonight is my last night at the ocean (SOB. SOB. SOB.). I am madly doing laundry, making sure everyone's beach mementoes are packed away and flooding FaceBook with ridiculous numbers of ocean pictures. Because I'm quite sure that FaceBook and, really, everyone, can NEVER HAVE ENOUGH PICTURES OF THE OCEAN. Or for that matter, HAVE ENOUGH OCEAN IN REAL LIFE. Except those that actually do live at the ocean (Are there such people? Really? Who are they? Are they salt-of-the-earth (or water) types that make their livings by fishing? Rich, reclusive, multi-million dollar CEOs that work from their secluded oceanside estate?).
(I want to stay here forever. For realz.)
I went for a nice hour and a half long walk on the beach this late afternoon. With lots of family time and two six year olds clamoring for attention and assistance with all sorts of ocean side activities, this was my only solo walk on this trip (still holding out for the possibility of a short, sunrise walk before I leave tomorrow morning) and I used this time to ponder, self-indulgently, my list of woes and cast them out into the sea. I even had a nice, healthy cry about it all. And, then, as usual, I got sick-and-tired-of-feeling-sorry-for-myself. You know, I have a friend who recently shared with me, when I was at a particularly low point, that approximately 7.1 billion people (I actually did have to google "population of the Earth" for that. I'm just being honest. Google is my friend.) have gone through heartache and struggle and tough times - you know - JUST LIKE ME. At the moment he pointed this out to me, I had an urge to pull off an unsavory karate move on him, but, well, darn it, he's right. Right, right, right. Sigh. Doesn't make it that much easier, but it does highlight the ugliness of my tendency toward self-absorption.
(This picture, however, highlights that, although I am self-absorbed, I am not an idiot. This, folks, is BEAUTY and should be CHERISHED. Doesn't this picture look like the loveliest invitation? I'm tearing up just looking at it. I guess this will now be my desktop wallpaper. Forever. Because I am just that DRAMATIC.)
"I've found that it's of some help to think of one's moods and feelings about the world as being similar to weather. Here are some obvious things about the weather: It's real. You can't change it by wishing it away. If it's dark and rainy, it really is dark and rainy and you can't alter it. It might be dark and rainy for two weeks in a row. BUT.... It will be sunny one day. It isn't under one's control as to when the sun comes out, but COME OUT it will. One day."
Which, of course, makes me have to post this:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bj1AesMfIf8
You are welcome.
Anyway, back to seaside lessons that I am learning...
My children and I went shell collecting on Thanksgiving Day and I had an epiphany. Yep. An epiphany! And, I really try to pay attention when those happen.
So, I was picking up all of the unbroken and pristine shells I could find. My kids were just picking up every other shell. I was getting a play-by-play about their choices - "This one looks like the moon, Mommy." - "Look at the black and white stripes on this one, Mama." They were picking out the motley-est crew of shells possible. But, of course, I humored them and let them pick up as many and whatever they wanted. When we got back to the house, I realized that my shell collection was perfect and pristine but THE MOST UNINTERESTING COLLECTION OF SEA DETRITUS. After washing my kids' shells, I took a good look at them (and will now show them to you):
But, look at the sheen, the different varieties of color, the fascinating patterns. Their imperfections (yes, here's where the"clever" title is driven home) make them so much more interesting than my shells (which I'm too embarrassed to even show you a picture of...). They are beautiful and fascinating and lovely. Take a look at the detail on one of my son's shells. I totally would have missed this:
Can you even imagine what kind of experiences this shell has seen? What animals have taken shelter in or under it? Unfathomable.
To extend my analogy (you know where I'm going with this, right?), why is it that we (or I) try to eradicate evidence of imperfection or mistakes or sadness in my life? Why do I always try to make things come out (in my head or in my life) on my own terms - symmetrical, meaningful, the way I think they should be...? It's so much more interesting to investigate the wounds, the scars, the reality. Maybe the beauty of a situation is that it is just as it is, not as I want it to be. I've often thought that I won't be able to achieve real wellness or weight loss until I learn to love what is right in front of me. I have such a hard, hard time doing that. But, think of what I miss in not seeing the beauty of my imperfections. Sigh. OK, enough of that analogy.
As I mentioned before, this blog is a place for me to remind myself of that for which I am grateful. I am grateful for my lessons from the ocean. I am sad, sad, sad to leave this place. Let me just gratuitously share two versions of blue sky that I experienced today:
This blue is so rich, I want to marry it for its money.
Look how soft and comforting this blue is. Just spectacular. And, yes, that is a kite. Perfection.
OK. This trip has been lovely. I am thankful. My sun has not come out, but it will again. Of that I am sure. I am almost ready to restart some plans for my health. I'll reactivate my fitbit, make a set of meal plans, try to remember to love myself despite and maybe even because of my imperfections and take each day as it comes.
In the meantime, dear reader, let me share this bit of peace with you:
Thanks for reading!
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