A tale of woe begetting a 'fub and the subsequence relief of said woe. That, and surfing.

Today I only had to work a half day at work. That's because there were no instructors to do lessons. I hung around and did all my chores. I made various stabs at starting a fire - in the wood-burning stove of course, what do you take me for?! - for it was misting out and there was many a wetsuit to dry. I'd been at work for about 45 minutes, when I felt the familiar and expected urge to relieve my liquids. No problem! Easily taken care of. Raph and his family may be GONE, but they left me with a key (or at least told me where to find the key)to get into their home to use the bathroom. So I expectantly put my hand where the key was supposed to be. It was...not there. I looked, immediately harried, all around me. no sign of any key. Ok...I thought. Well, that sucks. But what can I do? I have stuff to do. There's no one I can call. maybe, if I don't drink any water, it won't be so bad! So back to work I go. 

Needless to say, I went back to the porch many times in greater and greater states of desperation. After about 3-4 hours in I had gotten way past the point of respect for someone else's home. I was standing feverishly jamming my bobby pin into the lock. Of every door I found. I've never learnt the art of jimmying a lock, so I don't think I need to inform anyone that this was unsuccessful. (I should add right about now that by this point it was not just #1 clamouring for a way out. I'm sorry, but this piece of information is a vital part of the over-all feel of the story). Anyway. I had already circled the house like a vulture, trying to find a way in. Even a window. About my 3rd time checking a back door, I finally spotted a key. I GRABBED it and deliriously shoved it in the lock. It turned! I had that door open and was through the room and on the toilet in 3, maybe 5 seconds. Ah the euphoria. Honestly, it was almost worth the whole episode of torture. 

Ok, on to surfing. I went surfing yesterday. me and Shawn brought some boards home with us from my work. I am going to be perfectly honest. I was resisting. RESISTING RESISTING RESISTING. One can get into the habit of resisting all of life's new experiences. And that's just fine. There is nothing wrong with that. Because you'll only do it for as long as you want to. Sooner or later, life must be lived.  But only once you decide it is more worth it than being safe. That may not have been what was running through my mind word-for-word, but it was the jist of the idea. 

Then there was this girl, who kept popping into my head. Well, she popped into my head once, and then I kept calling her back there for reassurance. She's from Germany I think, and she had rented from us for a few days in a row. I saw her yesterday dropping off the gear she rented. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were bright. There was palpable health and radiance coming off of her. THAT is what I want. So I just kept replacing my image of fear with the image of her. and then making her me. It worked. I managed to get into my suit and into the truck. I was remembering bits and pieces of how I used to feel when I was younger and much more fearless (in certain ways). I would feel excited and eager. And then, in the truck on the way, it came over me in a wave: excitement for good times. 

Anyways, I'm making this into much more of an epic tale than it was. To make a long story shorter, I paddled out past the white wash for the first time since that errant head-high wave pummelled me a year and a half ago. The surf was gentle. I lay on my board and bobbed on the swells. Felt the in-and-out breath of the sea. I kept on getting afraid, (remembering the unpredictable sea of that pummelling wave of yesteryear) and calming myself down. The sea was much, much calmer. There were only beginners out in it. The other beginners gave me confidence.

We'd probably been lying there for 45 minutes before I said I wanted to catch something. The sets of surfable waves were about 15 minutes apart, and it was the 3rd or 4th set...fubman paddled with me, as per my request. We caught the wave together. I got up into a crouch, and watched the water rushing past, and the pearling foam around my board. It was fun! But it was so short. I got up, crouched, and jumped off, basically. 

Well, that's all Imma write about for now. 

unimog and kinship with bugs

a unimog.

It is my second day off today, and I spent the morning helping shawn to trim a hedge and weed some gravel. My wrists feel weak and slightly rubbery from holding the heavy, vibrating trimmer at such awkward angles. The place where we were working was super close to the grocery store, so when I was done I walked there and picked up some things me and Shawn need. It was a blonde lady at the till who I always detect a funny vibe from, and so consequently am always slightly funny towards. But today I decided to ignore that, and flashed her two bright and open smiles just because, because I AM bright and open and that's that. It made me feel good. Walking home with my loot, I practiced my new approach when I passed people on the sidewalk. Instead of feeling like I want to hide when I pass someone, I instead would really look at them and think, "who is this person?"...rather with a curiosity at the beings who I am interacting with than a fear at what they might think of me. Or whatever. And if they look up and meet my gaze, I then can give them a warm smile because I am regarding them from a place where I'm remembering ...our equality, for lack of a better word. And it just makes me feel warm. Everybody alive in this physical world is taking on their own personal challenges in order to help out the whole of existence. I firmly believe that. Looking at a fellow being (whether it be a fuzzy, vibrating bumble bee, a cat, or another human) you can always feel a kinship.
It sounds strange, but I have a lot of tenderness in my heart for bugs. When you look at their world, they are so small and brave. It is so easy for us to crush them. It must be a Divine influence that makes you love something simply because you see how much bigger you are than something and how easy it would be for you to take that something's life. You know, it shouldn't sound strange that I have a soft spot for bugs, or for any other creature. It is such a narrow point of view to say that their lives mean less because...why? they are so small? they are a nuisance at times? they scare you? What is the justification?  they are different. They are not human. But the life inside us is the same life that fills a bug. We don't hold any sort of monopoly when it comes to life-sacredness. I'm just going to keep going. There are a lot of bugs at my new job. The other day I watched a little jumping spider crawl across the paper I was drawing on. I moved to get a better look at him, and saw his tiny little eyes look way, way, way up to regard me. We stared at each other. Than he moved on. I watched as a furry little bee tumbled around in the flowers standing in the vase in front of me. His speed was at an entirely different level than mine. I could feel it when it buzzed away, veering towards me for a second, when I visibly jumped back, feeling the intense, buzzing, speed. You definitely feel them when they are around you. And it usually makes you anxious because, from what I perceive, they feel so intense, dense and fast. Too fast. They zip around like they have secret jet packs attached to their feet. compared to them, we are plodding creatures...slow, and muddled. No wonder they feel so disturbing when they burst into our energy fields with all their ferociously focussed energy. Anyways. I suppose that's enough rhapsodizing on the subject. I hope i haven't bored anyone to death. i'm fully expecting to be made fun of for spending so much time talking about bugs. I mean, clearly I have too much time on my hands...

I should write a book. But on what? Bugs and flowers and wind in the trees? Who would read THAT? I want to write a book and get published, but I never have a clear vision of what to write about. Too many things inspire me, and then I can't maintain that. The whole scattered sparks thing. I need a steady flame!

a mantra

love, be strong
love be fierce
love do not waver
love, hold me up

hot cheek'd burble

A day at my new job. 

I unlock the surf shack. I turn on the light, pausing to note how it does nothing to illumine the inside of the shop whatsoever. Turn on the open sign, the radio, put the surf video on repeat. Check the book and see what's happening for the day. Check to make sure everything is ready for any upcoming lessons. Check emails on the iPhone. Sit back, and wait for people to show up for lesson, if there's a morning one. If not, I'd walk around back, pushing open the tall stiff wooden gate. I'd see if there were any wetsuits/booties that were dry and ready to come inside. I'd take care of that. While doing so, I usually look around and appreciate the peaceful, quiet area that i'm in - the wind in the trees of course, and the birds chirp-a-lurping. It has such a tranquil feel. After taking care of the wetsuits, I'd sweep, clean some windows, and stoke the fire (if there is one). After that, I'll have exhausted my options for chores. This is when I take out a book, or some paper and a pencil and start to draw. 

sound of wind whispering and carrying distant voices. sea birds calling. 

A few hours later, if there was a lesson, they'd be returning, and it's my job to be all friendly and ask them how their lesson was. Then the instructor and I clean the wetsuits and hang them up to dry.  After which I empty out the tub and fill it with clean soapy water.  Then I'll hoist myself into the unimog and sweep out all the sand. After that, if there's an afternoon lesson I might just double check everything's tickety-boo for it. If there isn't one, I once again have free time. Of course, during the course of the whole day I must answer phone calls - but the phone has never rung more than 3-4 times in one day so far. Also it's my job to text the instructors to let them know of their upcoming lessons. Occasionally some people come in to rent some gear too. so sometimes I'm kept in semi-bustling motion for most of the shift. But those are the rare days. So far. 

Today the sun was shining full force, and as I type I am nursing a sun burn...(mostly on one side of my 

body.  i.e. my right cheek and right arm...from sitting out in it with my current book for most of the day. 

I can't even believe how fortunate I am with this job. Where did it come from? It fell from the sky right into my lap. First the blessing of release from my old, miserable job - which I WAS planning on suffering through. And then right on it's heels, a most idyllic job is given to me. The kind of job I've been looking for my whole life (seriously. Mixture of stimulation/satisfying hand work and total rest? working alone?! and then on top of that the mellow vibe of the owner and his wife?? And how nice they are, and appreciative already...I really like them). I never ever would have applied for that job, either. It's like there's nothing I could do - I was going to be blessed whether I helped it along or not. Thank you Divine forces. Thank you myself, for being positive enough to let this happen.

But anyways, I have grown a brand new love of drawing. I have always before been too impatient to get very detailed when copying anything - but now it is something I'm consciously cultivating...and it has been surprisingly pleasurable and satisfying. I am mainly drawn towards drawing plants: flowers and trees and ferns. It stops your mind when you make yourself really, REALLY, look at something - exactly look at it, and try to draw exactly what it is that you see. Without fudging any one part of it. It's been challenging and fun. Perhaps, when my printer/scanner is all set up, I'll post a few of my drawings. Peh-haps. My cheek is hot.