In The Beach Bubble

I feel like I’ve spent a year at sea.  In a beach bubble.  In this little utopic town on the Gulf Coast of Florida, where time stands still and flies by at the same time.  Here there is no news, except for the oil spill of course, something directly related to our livelihood here.  Oh, and we heard something about some miners stuck in a mine somewhere in another country…that’s about it.  I can’t tell you what Obama did this year, so far removed I am from my once passionate political self, so eager to have an opinion on everything.

Here there is only sand and sun, scooters and bikes, paddleboards and beach boys.  A lot of people like me came here in search of a paradise they always dreamed of living in, away from wherever they came from, some escaping cold weather, some something darker.  Everyone lives for the moment, and that is all that exists; this beach, these people, this life.  I can almost see the invisible pod we are encased in, somehow protected from the rest of the world, somehow untainted by bulldozing condo developments, somehow timeless, as our skin darkens, and everything else stays the same…

It is here I have finished the emptying of Before, and have created Space for What’s Next.

I’ve enjoyed living this laid back life of detachment from anything I was once defined by.  They say the most successful artists are those who constantly reinvent themselves.  There will always be capacity and divine responsibility that is inherent in identity, even if it is only to keep changing, keep creating.

During the dark first week of November, I got in touch with the things I needed to let go.  My ex-fiance, at my prompting, almost demanding, finally said the words, “we will never be together again.”  Though I’m the one who left, (as he never fails to remind me,) there was a small part of me refusing to move on and self sabotaging any prospects for another relationship.  I felt that old sense of die hard loyalty to those I love finding it’s way to the surface somehow at the most inopportune times.  I felt myself clinging in the dark for the solaces of the past.  I realized, once again, that it is only in the most painful and vulnerable of times that I allow myself to fall apart.   And that is what I did this year.

I let it go.

I made space.

And as soon as I did, life started flooding back in…



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