It’s not just a lazy summer, though one might think it is to see me from the periphery.
I have the luxury to spend time outdoors, basking in the sun at the neighborhood pool, volunteering at beerfests and other events around Atlanta on weekends, meeting new people and making new friends. I even flew away to California for five days a little more than a month ago; it was the most amazing trip of my life, so far: full of spontaneity, new friends, surf, sun and movies-come-to-life.
But, in the background is my life, and the true stresses and trials left to me to solve.
Granted, I’ve arranged my life and outlook so as not to have so many stresses as some have – at least, not in the same ways most have. Instead of worrying over my health, I whittle my diet to things I know I can eat without much concern; I watch my activities so as to reduce the possibilities for physical harm to myself. Instead of worrying too much over money (which does, yet, concern me a bit), I worry over how best to make my way to the sailboat of my dreams, to the life of my dreams, to the work of my dreams that best fulfills me. Instead of fighting eternally with those I love (or like) over any given issue, I hunt mercilessly for solutions, for work-arounds, for freedom and greater love, for understanding and even distance so I may gain perspective – or, at least, peace.
I am, therefore, single; I spend a great bulk of my time thinking of others, worrying about others; and a great amount of time working on the projects that most move me, that fill me with great excitement, endless ideas and momentum.
The rest of the time, I spend enjoying life.
It is important, vital; and, somehow, I see so many who’ve forgotten it, who fall into the trap of living vicariously through the excitements and hazards and problems of TV shows, of family members, of neighbors and co-workers and friends. There is no attempt to help anyone; merely to watch from the fringes, to observe and make commentary; to tell others’ stories.
I suppose that’s important, too: storytelling is certainly an art. But I’d rather tell my own stories; live my own life. Find my own way.
So, I bask in the sun and let my mind work its magic while I’m paying attention to nothing but the luxury of peace, of hot rays beating down on me, of cool breezes picking up the sweat from my skin, of children playing Sharks-and-Minnows in the pool nearby. Of the music I choose to hear from my Pandora app, meanwhile.
And, when I get home, my copper skin a shade more bronzed, silky-smooth from repeated slathering of extra-virgin coconut oil, I’m ready again to work, to plan, to harness the power of my mind towards my most cherished goals:
My boat.
My writing.
My friends.
And peace.
Oceans of Mine 