I feel I need to complete this thought process before it vanishes. Even now it is entering the realms of dreams barely remembered, the kind you want to remain in forever, and as you close your eyes to continue the fantasy, are just out of reach, and soon those deepest of thoughts are gone forever. and you mourn in silence, the long lost loves that never were, a brief encounter in time forever recorded, a could have been, a should have been, but never was. I have had thousands of those encounters, dream sagas you want your eternity to be, but wake to find it was a mind trick, an encounter to remind you of your humanity. Sometimes I wonder if the pull of remaining with that utopia (or hell), is stronger than getting up, pouring a cup of coffee, and moving on whatever moving on may be. If you choose the former, maybe you are dead. if you choose the latter, maybe the same result, only later and with a different ending. Hold this thought please.
I returned to Maui, and after 4 days of trying to get my house together, decided it was a day for the beach. No kids, no job, no big deal. As I have mentioned earlier, my favorite beach to relax in is Baldwin Beach, a locals hangout, and the closest of the beaches to where I am currently living. A beautiful beach for a walk and few tourists. Because it is on the windward side of the island (which means the windy side), I always sit by a grove of trees on the south end so you don’t get sandblasted by the wind and sand, and walk from there. It is also the end where the homeless people got kicked out of just before I went back to Minnesota. Had some friends over last winter and they loved it too.
The beach is gone. In the sixty days since we left it has changed from this:
The sand that once was, is replaced by trees and roots. The sand was moved farther down the beach to add to the expanse a half mile down. The trees came from a half mile up the beach.
I felt as if something was taken away from me. I looked at the uprooted trees being pounded in the surf and wondered why something so magnificent in life was being tortured now. The soothing sounds of the waves on sand was replaced by the pounding of waves on wood.
Even the mystical sounds of hippies playing ukeleles and guitars was gone. Someone set up a tent in the trees and was pounding out what I believe to be Techno.
An Englishman asked me to watch his bag. He had a daughter and a son with him. I said ok, and he vanished for about an hour. Enough time for me to drink the two beers in my cooler. , When he came back, we started to chat (love that word). He was a worldly engineer, as were his kids (worldly that is), and loved the beach with the huge trees and roots. Then it hit me. Who am I to judge. Who’s to say the beach isn’t better, the trees enjoying their remaining days better, the ecology better, who cares. I took my very, very narrow view of the beach as it should be, a few months at best, and assumed that is how it should always be. How absurd is that.
A butterfly may only live a few weeks, a fly 28 days, a mouse about a year. Do you think they care about that beach. Even if I lived a thousand years, who am I to say what’s right.
Tonight I am going to dream. I can’t change the beach, and thank God for that. I can’t change my dreams, and that is a blessing too. Tonight I may be a king or a slave, lion or a bug, in love or hurt until I can’t stand it any longer. I don’t get to choose the nightly journey, I only get to participate in what I can, watch what I can, or feel what I can. The morning will erase what it will, and I’ll hold onto what it doesn’t. It feels as if I have lived a thousand lifetimes in my dreams. Perhaps I have.
They say one third of your life is spent sleeping. I wonder if it’s true.