Found Under A Bottle Cap

Here's a true story. 

The summer before my senior year of college, I had lunch with Leah, an old friend from high school.  I was anxious about the months ahead, especially post-graduation life.   On this particular day in late August, we sat in the local bagel shop and we talked about the finality and the unknowns.  I was staring down the barrel of perhaps the most important school year of my life and I was half-scared I wouldn't make it.  To Leah, I mused: what will I do once it’s over?  What are the choices?  What am I supposed to do?  What do I want to do?  

And then I confessed: "I am feeling suffocated."

Leah nodded her head in agreement and twisted the cap off of her drink.  “Steph,” she said.  “Look.”  She passed the drink cap to me and in small, block letters, stained by grape juice, I read the inscription.

"Happiness is a decision."  

Leah always seemed happy.  You could look at her and see what some might consider a strange girl, but she was completely comfortable in her own skin.  A quality I envied and admired.  She proudly wore 7-11 employee shirts even though she worked at the Circuit City in town; her pants came from a thrift store and the shoes on her feet were the same ones worn by the skater boys in our class.  There was a tube of Chapstick hanging around her neck on a rope and she kindly reminded everyone that you never know when you're gonna need soft lips.  When all the cool kids were getting the latest models, Leah lusted after a late 1970s Volkswagen Beetle which she paid to have painted orange with sparkles in it.  (For Halloween, she made a green cardboard thing and attached it to the top of the car and proclaimed that she was driving a pumpkin.)  We'd ride around in her Beetle and belt out the lyrics to No Doubt songs, especially "Spiderwebs."  Leah was a misfit of a harmless, happy sort.  And in some ways, I was too.  Or at least, I wanted to be... and still do.

Anyway, I kept that bottle cap for years.  I always wanted to be reminded of a few things:

* When I am staring down the barrel of something scary and unknown, I need to remember that choices have to be made.  It's better to make the wrong decision than to languish in indecision... although it is far preferable to make the right decisions.  But life is hard and full of pitfalls and mistakes simply get made.  We get scarred up and we fall down at some point or another.  We just have to do the best we can and when we know better, we must do better.  (I think Maya Angelou once said something to that effect and I'm sure she said it much more eloquently.)

*Happiness is a decision.  In the recent months, as I have been alone, I have become more keenly aware that there is one undeniable truth.  At the end of the day, I must be able to lay my head down and  feel centered.  I need to find a way to make peace with myself and all the little splinters that exist within me.  I have to find some harmony between my head, my heart, and my gut.  For most of my life, much of my happiness has been predicated on other people being ok or an external set of conditions being met and so my happiness wasn't always truly authentic to me.  Now, I am faced with an overwhelming question: what will make me happy?  Deep down on a soul level?  I think I am beginning to figure it out... and it is both terrifying and tantalizing.

*Misfits are the very best kind of folks.  I need to remember Leah's example.  It is ok to be comfortable in your own skin... to say boldly to the world, "This is who I am, like it or not."  It is ok to be different and strange and a misfit.  At the end of the day, happiness is a state of being based on the decisions we make.  And I am ready to choose now.

Finally.

Simplicity

Do you remember the night we sat out on the jetty?  The sun sank low over the harbor and cast a orange-pink light over the ocean as it rushed into the inlet.  We sat barefoot on the rocks as the currents swirled just a few feet below us.  We didn't talk much.  We didn't have to, really.

Do you remember that?  I do. And it leads me to this... 

When everything falls down, when all seems at a loss, there is always the constancy of life: the sun always sets. The ocean continues to crash. The moon runs through its phases.  Seasons come and go.  We breathe in and we breathe out.  One foot in front of the other.  And, at the end of the day, we nestle down and drift off to a warm, sound sleep so that we can greet the dawn again with fresher eyes.

We must remember the simplest of things.

Unwritten In November

The summer lingers in my mind even as the cold of the impending winter bites into my bones.

- - -

The boardwalk was surprisingly busy for a Saturday in November. An older, heavy set man strolled passed me with his face shoved into a bucket of Thrasher's french fries. (I smiled because, if you know anything about Thrasher's, then you understand exactly how reasonable that is.) Seagulls squawked and picked at the remains of fries and funnel cakes left on the ground. The arcades were open: the music of bells and whistles streamed out into the chilly afternoon air. A little boy ran up behind his sister and pulled the trigger on a neon orange cap gun. Startled, she smacked him on the shoulder and then returned her attention to the guy behind the Atlantic Stand counter.

I zipped up my jacket and blinked as the cold wind swept through the crowd. I kept walking. Life goes on. It must.

Just a few months ago, the summer blistered our bodies. The days reached over 100 degrees; there was little relief from the heat and the haze and the humidity. We passed those days on the beach... under umbrellas, icy bottles of cider in our hands, our blanket just a short sprint from the cool refuge of the ocean. The clouds never lingered too long. We laughed and talked and day dreamed. And, although the sun was burning everything in sight, life seemed easy.

We stared out, straight ahead... The horizon was endless. A perfect blue line between this world and heaven: it looks like a promise stretched out in front of you. Your eyes get lost in the expanse of it and your mind wanders towards the unseen edges. Everything and anything is possible. The future is unwritten. All you have to do is believe.

Just believe.

I spent those days with my head lost in the spaces between the sand and the breakers, that little place where the sea foam bubbles up and quickly fades away. I did not care how much the sun burned my skin: the only things that mattered were the sounds of laughter, the smile of a friend, the wishes made on falling stars, the pulse of the sea, running for miles in the last minutes of daylight, watching the sunrise, stealing a quiet moment to enjoy a fiery orange moon, and pushing towards that horizon full of unknowns.

Because I did believe. I still do.

But now, walking the boardwalk, all zipped up in a thick jacket with my hands buried in my pockets to keep them warm, I couldn't help but feel the pangs of sadness in my heart. I miss the warmth of the summer. I miss the feeling of the sun on my skin and the sheer exhaustion of an afternoon in the Atlantic. I miss the days lasting longer into the twilight and the moments when night finally came and the stars emerged from a black velvet sky. I miss lying on my back and begging for one to fall down.

My eyes traveled ahead. Many of the stores had closed up for the winter and that further served to reinforce that my summer was gone. I looked out towards the ocean, over the sand, towards that beautiful horizon... The cold air brought tears to my eyes. (Or, at least, that's what I told myself.)

As I turned around to head back, I tried to shake the lonely feeling that had rooted down inside of me. This wasn't going to be forever, I reminded myself. It's just a temporary hibernation. The seasons come and go as is their very nature. The cycles must complete: summer to autumn to winter to spring to summer again. This is how life works and we cannot stay in one frame forever. We shouldn't.

I glanced again, this time over my shoulder, at the sand stretching out towards the sea and the sea pushing against the sky. When the winter comes, I will seek refuge in my warm memories of a glorious summer. And, when the spring comes and all the brown turns to green again, I will emerge too... a stronger version of me. Growing and rebuilding. The sadness will be flushed out. After the days and months ahead, my eyes will be clearer and my heart will be healed.

And when the times comes, I will shed my winter skin. I will be ready for the strength of my summer sun.

Stop

When my eyes opened this morning, after dreaming of the desert, I realized that my world had stopped spinning.

It was 6:00 a.m. and everything was dark, save for the glow of my alarm clock. I sat up and swung my feet over the side of the bed. I stared at the floor and thought of the desert. (The dream made little sense, as is typical for my dreams. I was dressed for a blizzard, standing on a cliff in the desert, staring down into a narrow river. I wanted to jump in...) The sunrise was moments away, I knew, but I turned to wedge my fingers in between the blinds just to double-check. Darkness. Back to the clock. Three minutes had elapsed since my alarm went off. Just a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity.

Time works that way when you realize just how lonely you feel.

Over the past several months, I have loved and I have lost. Some fell to natural causes, a couple were taken away by the fickleness of the human heart, and one was murdered. I moved, I worked, I ran, I tried, and I didn't stop. Life swelled like a tidal wave in front of my eyes. But the end result of these difficult months is this: I am alone. And completely by choice.

Change is often thrust upon us... and sometimes, we have to choose it.

The tolls have made my heart heavy and left me without the desire to write a single word. The blank page wasn't an enemy - I simply had nothing to say. This terrified me because writing has always been my fail-safe. When little else made sense, I had words and pens and empty lines on paper and they always helped. But, this year, it's been increasingly difficult for me to get what lies in my head and heart out... the disconnect was everywhere.

But I am determined to find my way back to the page, back to words. I know life runs in cycles and this cycle is a rough one. But although there has been little poetry and much drama, both comedic and tragic, I know that it has not all been bad. The tears and upheaval have been punctuated with bright stars, laughter, and glimpses of a blue horizon. There were many good days. I hold onto those minutes of happiness because I have to.

This morning, I felt alone. Tonight, I am surrounded by words and a couple of blank pages. It is a solitary comfort, but I'm grateful for it.

Along The Water's Edge

I opened my eyes. The ocean stretched out in front of me for a thousand miles. My legs shifted. For days now, I'd been longing for this: an evening run on the beach. I took a deep breath and turned north.

The sun had already set. Twilight was creeping in over the tops of the hotels that lined the beach. With each step, I watched the sky slip through the various shades of blue.

I ran in the place where the ocean begins to recede from the sand, just where the last flash of the whites of the breakers disappear. Over the music playing in my headphones, I could still hear the dull crashing of the ocean. I ran along the edge, every so often changing my course to avoid getting caught up in the rising tide. I watched the ocean pull back, recede into itself and swell again.

There is something hypnotic about its constant nature.

As I ran, I noticed the remaining signs of life... beach-goers squeezing every last minute for all it was worth. A little girl played in the waves, squealing when the remnants of the breaking waves pushed into her. Another little girl, avoided the water all together and moved like a skittish pony when the water crept up towards her. I ran past a group of teenagers tossing frisbees with lights inside. The pirouetting of the flashes of light caught my eye. So much so I nearly ran into a man with a fishing pole.

My mind was slipping into an easier gear as my legs stretched and pushed against the wet sand. I can't explain how or why it happens like that... I just know it does and that's enough. The constant humming of my own brain drives me from one weird place to another. But then again, I guess maybe that's how it is for everyone - we all have to contend with what lies within our own skulls. And we all have to figure out the best ways to manage the noise, the buzz, the voices, those things inside of us that never go away.

A little farther up the beach, I saw a faint orange glow. There was a bonfire going and I could see people sitting around it, laughing and talking. The smell of the burning wood mixed with the salty air filled my nose and I couldn't help but smile.

I had no idea how far I had gone nor did I care. In moments like that, my autopilot serves me well. All I had to do was exist, breathe in and out, and keep moving. I ran along the dying breakers and I couldn't help but think about what that might mean. Why am I always searching for the edges of things? I am always so restless.

When I decided to turn around and head south, I was beginning to feel the run. The burning in my muscles, in my lungs. Sweat. I welcomed them. A smile widened across my face.

The ocean continued to crash down again and again. In the fading twilight, the place where the ocean met the sand and the sky was blending into one dark terminus, each one indistinguishable from the other. The horizon was a haze of navy hues and it went on forever.

I could see the bonfire again. That old familiar scent lingered in the late evening air and it made me happy.

Then, the hotels began to turn on their night flood lights and the beach was awash in a fluorescent glow. The foam of the breaking waves was brilliant white against the blackness of the ocean. I turned my gaze towards the hotels: as people returned to their rooms, there was a golden glow cast out of the windows. Strange patterns formed, like half-filled honeycombs. I shook my head... this is how my mind works.

I continued running, looking ahead for the hotel that marked my entry to the beach. I was getting close to it when a large wave crashed and soaked me from knees down. My shoes filled with sand and cool water. I laughed and slowed my pace. You can only run along the edge for so long...

You'd think I'd know better by now.

I finally came to a stop and dropped down into the sand. I pulled off my water-logged shoes and socks. I faced the Atlantic. My heart racing. Sweating. Breathing hard. I walked down into her breakers and I closed my eyes.

Status Un-Haitus

The winter chill is breaking and I'm kicking out of my cocoon.

Over the holidays, I lost two dear friends: one moved away to Connecticut and the other passed along to other side of this world. The bitter cold and threats of snowstorms did little to ease my reclusive mood. I barely felt like writing. But here it is... March and I am rolling up my sleeves and digging into new projects.

To get out of this rut, I've been playing around with new mediums for storytelling and I'm really excited about a few prospects. I think, every now and again, I need to change up the routine. I forgot that writing was supposed to be fun, not just a means to an end. I am coming back to the table with refreshed eyes and a sly grin.

Look out.