I have a tough facade. Unbreakable. But lately I have begun to crack.
Mounting pressures of a flailing business venture, my best friend and closest confidant in a far-away land, and feeling for the first time in my social but alone life very much alone, today I was feeling close to the bottom. Since I can't afford a day at a retreat spa, complete with Swedish massage and windchimes in the vacuous hot air of Napa Valley, I decided to throw on my sneakers and walk 3 miles to the ocean.
Chatting on the phone with a friend on the way there, I finally, at the end of the conversation, began to let someone other than my soul sister know the pressure I have been under. But then I remembered that on the other end of the line was not only my friend, but a mother of a 5 month old baby who was starting to prepare dinner for her family. So with a wobbly voice and strong "OK!" I let her go.
I walked around the bend and there was the ocean, huge and sparkling and swelling beyond the retaining wall. It enveloped my entire vision, and then it blurred with salty tears. I couldn't wait to sit on the beach and reflect, let it out, compose myself.
But I couldn't do anything but sit. There were other people on the beach. Basically, there was no place I could go on that span of sand where no one else was. When you're looking for a quiet place for introspection, having high school lovers near you and happy naive children in front of you screaming at the chasing waves, it's just not possible. So after an hour of trying really hard not to see anyone else, and only crying an iota of the amount required to feel better, I began my walk back.
Trudging through the park my eyes were burdened and tingly with un-released tears. My mouth in permanent frown, jaw tight, brow furrowed. The ocean hadn't calmed me. I would spot a lush reclusive area and consider just sitting there, but then I would think it's still too close to the noisy road, and if I went deeper into the park I'd be killed by the homeless clans that live in the park's depths. I trudged on.
Then something ridiculous happened. I walked under a sprawling canopy of pine trees filled with cawing crows. Ahead of me a few feet was a crow in the grass, and he was looking intently at the ground while talking to his friend in the tree. His friend would answer back. I watched the crow on the ground to try to figure out what he was looking at, and decided he was fighting with a gopher over something to eat and his friend in the tree was giving him advice.
A few yards later I realized that my eyes didn't feel burdened anymore and my mood was slightly lifted. And I whirled with amazement inside because all I had done was watch a stupid crow. And that whirling lifted my spirits even higher. I felt like chatting with the woman walking ahead of me. I realized the early evening sun was still warm on my back and the wind, that incessant summer wind, had died. I breathed deep and was me again.
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