Through the Debris

So, yeah, I’ve been a slacker with the whole blogging thing.  Part of it is that there isn’t much to report.  But part of that is because I haven’t found it in me to contemplate much lately.  And contemplation seems to go hand in hand with blogging, at least for me.  Why the lack of contemplation?  In a nutshell, fear.  Who knows what thoughts will rise to the surface if one gives them a chance to do so.

That said, I managed to do some long overdue contemplation today, which I will attempt to put into some kind of cohesive form — no promises though.  Overdue contemplation leads to an overload of thoughts and emotions that seem to both flow freely and jumble together all at the same time.

I spent most of my day here. 

This is, in my opinion, one of the best beaches in the world.  It’s not so much about the sand and the surf, though they are fantastic, but the whole atmosphere of the place.  A resort town where shoes are optional, people walk everywhere, and there is so much to see around every corner from eclectic little shops to musicians in the streets.  Strangely enough, halfway around the world, there is something about it that feels very right to me — like in some strange way I am home.  Or at least at home in some alternate universe.

So after having a good wander around the town and taking a long walk along the shore, I found myself sitting in the sand.  I watched the families playing in the breaking waves.  The lovers walking hand in hand along the beach.  The birds (which were more attractive than any seagulls I ever see at home) fluttering here and there in search of food.  The surfers way back in the ocean, seemingly watching over it all, occasionally gliding toward the shore only to paddle back out to the depths.  And there was a little girl in a pink tutu.  She was there with her mother and two older sisters, and clearly the free spirit.  Chasing after the birds.  Splashing into the surf, just a little bit deeper than the others.  Plopping down in the sand and letting handfuls of it run through her fingers.  I found myself envious of the little girl in the pink tutu.  I wished to feel that free, that alive.

I watched the sunburned tourists pack up their gear and head back to their hotels, reminding me that this primarily a holiday town.  For some reason I heard my parents’ voice reminding me that this isn’t real life. 

But as i watched the sun set over the blue waters, I thought to myself “Why can’t this be real life?”  Why must “real life” consist of drudgery and entrapment?  Why can’t real life be as free as the little girl in the pink tutu?  Why shouldn’t there be joy and wonder in every day life?

Is it so crazy to wish for a real life that entails all of this?

I thought of a quote I saw somewhere:  “Life isn’t about finding yourself, but creating yourself.”

I guess this means that if this is the reality I want, I’m the only one who can make that happen.  And that’s quite a terrifying thought.  I’m the one who needs to figure out how to get from point A to point B.  I’m the only one who can do it.  And I won’t have any guidelines or roadmaps to help me do so.

The dangers of contemplation.  Realizations may be more terrifying than anything.

As day turned to evening, I wandered back to catch the ferry back to Sydney.  Thinking about these things.  Thinking about the last time I was in this part of the world.  More specifically when I came home from this part of the world only to have the bomb dropped and my marriage and life as I knew it shattering into pieces.  It seemed like a lifetime ago.  Yet I couldn’t help but remember who I was then, and compare it to who I am now, the good and the bad.  And as I sat on the deck of the ferry with my feet propped up on the railing, looking up at the moon, a light rain began to fall.  I felt the cool droplets on my face, mixing with the hot tears that had somehow escaped from my eyes without my noticing.  Cleansing.  Refreshing.  Washing away regrets.  Preparing me for something new.  While listening to the lyrics of the song playing on my mp3 player.  And perhaps really understanding them for the first time:

It’s a secret no one tells;
One day it’s heaven, one day it’s hell.
It’s no fairy tale;
Take it from me,
That’s the way it’s supposed to be.

You will fly and you will crawl;
God knows even angels fall.
No such thing as you lost it all.
God knows even angels fall.

You laugh, you cry, no one knows why
Behold the thrill of it all…
You’re on the ride
You might as well
Open your eyes…