On my computer desk top monitor I have a photograph of one of Laguna’s loveliest beaches. On a distant cove two people stand. They appear to be having a conversation. Behind them are a couple of colorful beach umbrellas with a few more people enjoying the real live moments where a gorgeous day, the wide blue ocean, waves, rocks and sands put a perspective on life that takes away petty problems. And I’m quite sure these people have no idea they’ve been immortalized on camera. Wouldn’t it be fun to meet them and say, “You don’t know me from Adam but I see you many times every day. On my desktop?”
This is just one of the countless bits of trivia that march through my mind. Like the wet sand down on the shore they beg to be shaped into in sand castles. Words can do that. Likely as not both words and sand get washed away with time but they work in moments. As kids we used to build a dike around the building of a sand castle first to fend off the inevitable as long as possible.
My blogs are like that, thoughts wide open to innovation and imagination, even small ideas trying to find that mini-second of time and space to be caught on camera. Some might say I’m wasting my time and they may be right but playing with thoughts, like playing with dribble-wet sand, is fun for me, and to those few who like reading blogs and tell me they enjoy mine, I say, Thanks for saying so!
I’d like to tell all those who think they might enjoy writing memoirs, essays, whatever, to build a dike around the castle site so the incoming tides of discouragement, complication and blockage can be fended off. Then just start. Let it all pour out any which way at first. Don’t edit as you go. That comes later. Those first drafts seldom make it to publication anyway but they give you something to work with. Like sand or clay they can be done and redone until something good comes out, something satisfying.
Even if you intend to keep your scribblings to yourself they help in so many ways to see things objectively, to edit not only words and phrases but your life, your ideas, imaginations, secret desires, even frustrations. Yesterday’s blog was, for me, one of those healing efforts. It helped me out of a pit and prompted the communications that dispelled the mesmeric demons that could have done their dirty work.
A day at the beach. I’ll see if I can take one soon. When something so precious is so easily available it is a crime not to take advantage of it even though I have the essence of such days tucked away in my mind’s cupboard to take out and remember. Who knows how many pictures we all have inadvertently happened into? “Who’s that little girl in the old-fashioned bathing suit jumping into the big wave at Divers’ Cove? See? The one who’s diving feet first and holding her nose.” They’ll never know it was me. Summer of 1938.
Today there is no shopping bus or any other special activity beckoning. It’s 11:30 a.m. and thank goodness no one has come to my door. I’m still in my nighty. Tommy’s cage is thoroughly cleaned and he’s about his business of song, seeds and swings. Although my calendar is blank I’m sure I’ll be thinking of something else to do soon besides blogging.
If this blog serves any purpose at all I hope it may be to inspire someone to sit down and write. Write anything. Just let your thoughts roll out freely. You can tell which ones are worth keeping so much better when they can’t hide anymore. I think writing is one of the healthiest things a person can do. Much more satisfying than Solitaire or Sudoku or even sand-castling. Of course if you’re an artist, a musician, or busy with some other talent, that’s good. But even then there is nothing like a pen and paper or computer keyboard to straighten out the kinks in life. No one needs to be depressed, obsessed, or possessed. The demons of life can’t stand the light, so think them away with writing. Or pack up your beach umbrella, towel, hat and shovel. Then head for the beach. It’s a beautiful day! You might even get your pciture taken by a total stranger.
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