That’s right, we are going to listen to a great song by an unforgetable artist. (Didn’t think that music appreciation was a part of greatness, did you? Well, it is.)
Listen to the joy, elation and excitement. Really feel it, my readers, because today ole’ blue eyes has the mic.
And while you do, I want you to imagine that is you. But instead of some dame taking to the skies with you, I want you to imagine that it is your reawakened spirit. What’s more, I want you to imagine that it isn’t to some far off place.
I want you to imagine that you are homebound, soon to be reuniting with your family and friends, returning to your workshop and your work.
Right now, I am so stoked to be headed home, and I hope you will come fly with me.
After a month of being in Mexico, I am tired of being in the sun, sand and palm trees.
I am ready to get back to work.
I am bored of this mini-retirement.
There, I said it.
And while I was sitting in my frustration for not being back home, the thought occured to me, how would I have felt had I waited for years, decades even? And it continued.
What had I felt had I deferred going to this country with my family, seeing my baby boy play in the ocean, enjoying wonderful food with my wife, and walking through the ruins of ancient civiliazations? What if I had waited until traditional retirement age to enjoy this country, its people and food…
I would have hated myself.
Because I would have gotten one month into retirement, which is exactly where I am at, and I would have been completely bored of it, which is exactly what I am feeling.
I would have found myself wanting nothing more but to return back to work, to be with my friends and family, to take full advantage of all my productive energy.
But to my horror, there is no work for me to do, my friends and family have long since passed or have grown too old for the sun, sand and surf, and I would have out-lived the energy to enjoy it myself.
It was at that very moment that I decided to write to you, my readers, and I needed to tell you about that grim truth.
So please, don’t wait, my friends, don’t defer enjoying the best this life has to offer. Because sooner than you know, it will be too late.
Truthfully, the best part of visitng the beach is not the cool sand under the canopy, the ice-cold cervesas (beers), topless chicks sunning, or the salty gentle breeze. The best part of the beach is the endlessly thundering waves of the water.
For me, I have to get into the water. I simply have too. After years of swimming in pools competitively, the rip-roar of the tide calls to me. I am sure you can attest to the grandeur that the surf commands as compared to the placid calm of a pool. And it is that greatness that I love. The rythmn that the water beats on the drum of the beach, it awakens me to play in it.
Of course I go out as far as I can, to where my feet can no longer touch the safety of the sandbar, that I float over the abyss. Looking into the darkness beneath me, lolling with the waves with only the strength of my limbs and the buoyancy of my body, this is where I love to find myself. In tune with the rythmn, uulating with the hum of the sea, pulsing with my own personal power – the power to overcome the depths beneath me. Here is where I truly play, where I let the crash of cresting waves and rushing riptides carry me back into the coastline.
And then I do it all over again, throwing my self into the waves, letting them fling me over their back like a father wrestling their son. Again, again and again I play in the waves. It seems silly to say, but I feel love emanate as I play in the waves that carry me. Not everyone can handle the rough-and-tumble play, and the waves of the ocean are not patient for those who can’t handle rough play. But for those who can handle the relentless nature, there is joy and laughter and exhaustion of all cares and worries.
This is my sunday revery, my sunday worship, to immortalize with my hands the eternal love of the sea.