In the Philippines I knew I was a tiny speck of nothing when I faced the sea. Here, the beaches are too full — of people, of things, of surfers — I could never find that finite sense of my self with a banana stand and a lifeguard post around. But I found that feeling in the high desert.
I used to say that I never felt present–or in the moment–unless I was in motion. Now this constant movement depresses me. I just want to take root, but how? I feel like we will never finish unpacking.
A few months ago, I had a faux chalkboard up in my tiny kitchen in Long Beach. (Actually we had two of them; one on the front door for reminders and the second one, the one I’m referring to, for general hopes and dreams.) On it: new digs, more $$$, and CREATIVITY in big letters, on top of the list. We just meant we wanted better ways to express ourselves artistically. And we’re incredibly happy that we got a lot of those items so soon after putting up that old list (it was January 2012 when we wrote everything down), so I feel a little silly for missing our tiny 2-bedroom (a mile from the beach!), my old job (I worked from home three times a week!) and just how familiar everything in Long Beach had become. So maybe I just have to work on the creativity part. I’m sure that will solve everything.
Jah went to Milwaukee to visit relatives without us, so we tried to keep busy. We bought our tickets to the Philippines, got old computers fixed, cleaned out closets, got massages, watched a movie (Moneyball) in a real theater and went to the Prospector for karaoke. I sang “Suedehead” by Morrissey and it’s been in my head since.