Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Beach of Dreams.

I am sitting under a gently swaying palm tree, ten feet from the ocean, contemplating the necessary ingredients for a lip smacking Mai-tai. It is peaceful, with a smattering of groggy people about and the ululating ocean the only notable sound in the salty afternoon air. All around me blood pressures are dropping, tensions are melting and grateful sighs are softly escaping into the balmy island air of Maui.

I wiggle my toes in the sand, and focus on the delicate patterns the frothy surf etches into the wet caramel colored sand. I flash back to younger feet wiggling in identical looking sand on a beach somewhere near Durban, South Africa. The beaches of my childhood. The same tepid sea water, clouds as defined as those in a child's crayon drawing. The same hypnotic patterns of nature, always changing, never ending. I was an eternal daydreamer, conjuring up intricate worlds of the future, sometimes realistic and possible, sometimes pure Dr Seuss and the Places You'll Go. My daydreaming took flight on the windswept, lonely beaches near Durban. My companions lost in their own reveries, books, conversations or games and the spaces large enough to wander off alone without being missed, a sandy figure on the horizon, head down and toes poking at a rock pool. I would sing, practice twirls and eyelash batting and manipulative secret smiles, and be intrigued and strangely placated by the new yet recognizable details of life and motion performing a grand opera in no need of an audience on the edge of the breaking waves and jutting rocks.

I dreamed of the places I'd go and the people I'd meet. I dreamed of the witty conversations and dramatic landscapes of my paperback novels. I dreamed in exquisite minute detail -- the laconic arching of an eyebrow by a chiseled lad in cricket whites somewhere in England --and sweeping generalities, the fabulous coastlines and towns of Europe and dancing and swimming and the magical music penned from the souls of interesting people. I dreamed in scenarios, never a chronological plan. No soul mate, fairy-princess wedding dress, faceless children and picket fence, (although I always imagined there would always be a dog smiling with loose lips and silky ears, panting happiness.) Memories seem to come to us in a similar manner. Ask anyone for a synopsis of their past or plans for the future, and they tend to falter, struggle along in stops and starts, and end up veering off into a scenario that captures their interest or ignites a long forgotten love or pain. As children we live in the moment, unconsciously and gratifyingly. As we mature, our expectations of the world and of ourselves change and we spend more time trying to control our environments, futures, time and life paths. But we also learn quickly that much in life is beyond our control. Sometimes it is luck or plain misfortune, the unpredictable actions of others both good and bad, and sometimes we just make mistakes. But we adapt and dream another dream, some more easily than others.

The shushing ocean coaxes my thoughts back to that misty place of dreams and plans, and I realize with certainty that these days all I wish to do is plan one day at a time. That life will definitely surprise me with the big stuff, but that if I live one day at a time with grace, love and genuine caring for others, the little scenarios of life will be drenched in true connections, heart-felt humor and beautiful images for the soul. So I am thankful for the warm, lovely people I have around me this vacation. The time to notice how much my girls have grown this year, to notice Henk's sweetness again in these unhurried days and to appreciate the life and interest in the eyes of my friends. To be reminded how much fun it can be to share -- thoughts, ideas, songs, jokes, meals, walks, fruity drinks and towels. A delightful reprieve from our over scheduled daily lives, and enough time to breathe deeply.

I peer up from underneath my straw hat and see my ten-year-old in the distance --twirling and singing on the rocks, her pureness taking flight across the Pacific Ocean.