The balcony door is flung wide to let the sounds of the sea and the wind and the gulls fill the room. The smell of a doused bonfire on the beach sneaks in with them. A drenching misty rain began to fall shortly after sunrise; I had watched the clouds roll in bringing the rain along with them, as I sipped my coffee. I’m still sitting around sipping coffee, without a care, after “doing the needful” regarding payday details (because truly the clock never stops ticking, and some shit just needs to be done). The sky is a peculiar milky gray that obscures details that are relatively nearby, and which I can usually see quite clearly – it’s just that drenching mist of a rain adding a gray wash over everything, like a careless watercolorist.
Looking from the balcony toward Schooner Creek, through the misty rain.
I crashed ridiculously early last night, after a walk on the beach in the late afternoon, and a bite of dinner. I think it was barely 7:00 pm. I expected I’d probably end up wakeful and restless during the night, but I slept right through, waking only briefly to pee during the night, and the morning caught me by surprise; it was past daybreak when I finally woke. My sleep tracker suggests I slept quite deeply more than half the hours I slept, which is rare for me these days. I needed that rest.
A picture before bed time.
The water along the shoreline is quite clear this morning, and from my third floor hotel room I can see into the water, to the sandy bottom, and even see an occasional small crab moving along, sideways, no doubt hoping to avoid an eager gull or other shorebird looking for a tasty snack. The tide turned before I woke, and I enjoy watching the sea rise, wave after wave, gulls enjoying the air currents, or picking at bits of things in the shallow water. A bit further from shore, the clear water appears as a blue-green-gray, and I can’t see into it deeply at all; it’s deeper there. There is a channel there that never quite empties, even at the lowest tide, and occasionally shallow draft fishing boats travel this channel, fishing or moving to the next good fishing spot, rarely staying long. It’s an odd little spot, this Siletz Bay. The view changes so much with every change of the tide. I love this spot. It’s interesting seeing some of the massive logs carried down the river to the sea, they move so far on relatively little water (quite a lot of this bay is very shallow). The driftwood log upon which I sat for some time yesterday evening may not even be there by the end of the day, today.
Bay view this morning, shortly before the rain arrived.
The room is chilly, now, from leaving the door open to the balcony all damned morning (since I woke). I put on a sweater rather than shut out the sea breeze, and stop writing long enough to wrap my hands around a hot cup of coffee while I watch a short video my Traveling Partner shared with me. He misses me already, I know. It’s tempting to immediately return home to comfort him and hang out together… but I know I actually really need (and benefit from) this short break from “all the peopling” and busy-ness of life. Self-care only works when we do the things we need to do to care for ourselves. I breathe in the cold sea air, and sign contentedly. The rain is still falling, but the clouds are moving away, and it seems likely I’ll be comfortably walking along the beach shortly, enjoying the advantage of the low tide to walk along further than I might at high tide. My coffee has grown as cold as my hands.
…I would enjoy a better cup of coffee than what the hotel provides. Perhaps it is time to begin again…?
My morning coffee this morning is truly awful. Made it myself, and I’ve made a few bad cups of coffee in this lifetime – this one’s a standout among them. lol It’s early on a Saturday, in a small somewhat shabby hotel, in a lovely quiet spot on the Oregon coast, though, and if all I have to complain about is a shitty cup of drip coffee made in a poor quality plastic drip coffee machine from provided (and likely ancient) pre-measured ground coffee… well… it’s a damned good morning, generally, eh? 😀 I alternate sips of water (cool and refreshing) and sips of coffee (g’damn this is terrible), and check to see what time the nearest good quality coffee may be available this morning (it’s “off season” and quite a few of the small cafes and such are closed on a seasonal basis, taking a pleasant break during the rainy winter months). 07:00 a.m. looks like the earliest I could go out and fetch back a good cup of coffee, and by then I’m likely to be wanting a bite of breakfast and maybe a walk on the beach…
…I think things over while I sip my bad cup of coffee, and lean on the experience as useful perspective, and a launch point for a moment of gratitude; as bad as this cup of coffee is, it’s here, it’s hot, and it’ll do what coffee does to kick start my morning. It’s enough, and I’m grateful for a world in which coffee exists and is (still) reliably available to a person of average means. (Realistically, that may not always be the case.)
…Good grief this is a bad cup of coffee though…
I slept well and deeply again last night. Sleep pulled me down into it’s dreamy depths relatively early (again). The walking and the sea air combine to find me truly ready for sleep by the end of the day, and it’s quite lovely. I slept a bit more than 10 hours and woke to the sound of ocean waves pounding the rip-rap at the base of the hotel property, feeling rested and refreshed. The hotel has been surprisingly quiet on this visit, and I’ve enjoyed that greatly. The morning begins gently, and I feel pretty good – less stiffness and less pain than yesterday, which is promising for the day ahead.
I shut off the desk light in the room – I don’t need it to write, and it obscures my view of daybreak and the sunrise-to-come. I smile at the fractional moon overhead, as it sets, and marvel for a moment at the way it shimmers on the bay. I open the door to the balcony, and the chilly sea air. A handful of ships in the distance reveal themselves by their lights; I’d never see them during the daylight hours without a more powerful zoom than any I brought, the their lights twinkle away in the dim blue of dawn.
A brand new day. What will I do with it?
I sip my coffee, feeling “more awake” as the quantity remaining dwindles. I think about breakfast, and choose a local favorite breakfast spot I haven’t yet tried. I listen to the waves, louder just now for some reason. I watch the gulls soaring and gliding playfully on the early morning breezes and the updraft alongside the hotel wall. The morning sky begins to shed its deeper hues in favor of something closer to a baby blue or a robin’s egg blue. Looks like a good day to wander and wonder unfolding ahead of me. I smile and finish my terrible cup of coffee, and prepare to begin again.
My coffee tastes different this morning. It’s not because I am sitting cross-legged on the surprisingly comfy Queen bed in this seaside hotel, not even because it’s fairly typically-terrible hotel coffee made in a fairly generically terrible-coffee-making drip machine sitting atop the small room-sized hotel refrigerator, but more because I am sipping it solo, with no chance at all of sharing the moment with my Traveling Partner. Right at the moment, in all practical terms, we’re traveling separately (he’s sleeping still, at home, I hope, and I am sitting cross-legged in sloppy-loose blue jeans, laptop perched precariously on my lap, waiting for my terrible coffee to cool enough to drink properly).
I’d say my goal of relaxing and getting some “down time” before shifting gears to start the new job has been successful; I woke having entirely forgotten about Daylight Savings Time, and looking at the clock and finding “6:30 am” to be both believable, and an acceptable time to wake on a leisure morning… I woke up. I laughed when I finally noticed the discrepancy between the clock that I had checked upon waking (which automatically updated) and the one that did not (provided by the hotel, plugged into the wall in the usual way). I shrugged it off and got started making terrible coffee and looking over the notes I took at several points yesterday, as I walked and wandered, waited and reflected, breathed and meditated.
The ocean does not care when or whether I check into my hotel room, nor when I leave. My presence makes no difference to the timing of the waves, or the fierceness of the winds.
I arrived to the shore much too early to check into the hotel, and my room was not yet ready. Didn’t matter much; the endless ocean tickled the shore without regard to check-in times. The hotel graciously allowed me to use the private beach access in the meantime, and I went down what seemed like 1001 concrete steps to the beach. The wind was brisk and cold. There were bundled up families flying kites and enjoying the day. There were even barefooted kids playing in the shallow water of the waves as they spread across the beach, then receded; they seemed as shore birds, running forward as the water pulled back, running back as the waves spread forward. I found myself reflecting on that. There’s something to learn, there, I suppose.
…This coffee is simply dreadful. I add sugar and the available non-dairy creamer. Still awful. I’m still drinking it…
I gave up beach walking when my legs became tired, and trudged patiently up those many steps once more. Room not yet ready, I headed into town and, masked and distant, and wandered through enticing antique shops.
In a shop filled with carefully crafted miniatures, I find room after room of furnishings that seem to be idealized versions of various stages of my own aesthetic, and wonder if, after all, so many of them could really have come from… doll houses?
The tourist “traps” that line the street are the sort common to any seaside town I’ve visited… saltwater taffy shops, “old time” candy stores, antique shops, t-shirts, sea shells, and nautically themed whatsits of all kinds (lighthouse sculptures, pirate “treasure”, glass fishing floats and paperweights, and “the world’s best” of some local dish). I wandered until I was more distracted by my own thoughts than engaged by what I saw in front of me, and returned again to the hotel, and to the beach, to walk and reflect awhile longer.
I sat for a long while, occasionally attempting to light a joint in the fierce coastal “breeze” without success.
I spent a couple of contented hours walking, and thinking. Reflecting on lessons learned, both generally (and recently), and also specifically (with regard to my most recent job, and how to make good use of what I learned in future roles). It was time well-spent. Aside from the wind and my tinnitus, the only thing I was hearing was… me. I walked the beach listening deeply to what the woman in the mirror has to say… about life… about love… about work… about a future that is unknown (and largely unknowable). I contemplated the confounds of expectations and assumptions.
…At check in time, I made my way to my room, let myself into this small space that is more or less my own (until check out time), and unpacked my baggage – literally, and metaphorically.
…Damn this is dreadful coffee. Wtf? Why am I putting myself through this? LOL I stare into the cup, warm in my hand, astonished by its prodigious awfulness with a certain amount of respect; it’s a hell of an achievement for a cup of coffee to be this bad.
I took time to reflect on all I’d seen, and on my notes, and the many “living metaphors” the day had presented to me.
I ask myself “the hard questions” on my mind as the day becomes evening… What matters most? What has me chained to some past moment? What have I accepted as the basis of my sense of self? Is that truly “who I am”? How do I free myself to soar to greater heights? Where does my path lead? The moments, questions, and the thoughts they carry with them crash onto the shore of my consciousness, and recede one by one. I find “embracing change” to be a process, and an ongoing practice. Taking some time alone to be with my thoughts – and, unavoidably, with my self, is a useful break for “sorting things out”. For finding the signal in the noise. Life may not have a map, but I can sure jot down some notes as I might if I were writing down directions to go from here to … somewhere else. It’s important to be clear on the desired destination. It’s important to be aware of where I stand right now. 🙂 With those things in mind, how much more easily can I begin again?
…It’s that time, isn’t it? Beginning again, I mean. The new job starts tomorrow. The new laptop was delivered Friday, and is waiting for me to set it up.
…Fucking hell I am missing my Traveling Partner this morning. I missed him ferociously last night, too. The value in missing him has nuances that are worthwhile experiences of their own. Missing him reduces the likelihood that I will take his precious presence in my life for granted. Missing him reinforces how much I enjoy him being part of my experience. Being absent the many things he does for me (and for us), large and small, reminds me that I legit don’t do as well for myself on my own as I seem able to in this specific partnership. (Not dissing myself or minimizing how much I appreciate myself for (and as) myself, just saying there’s a ton of stuff that just doesn’t seem to stay on my radar, and my sometimes general lack of fucks to give, or pain, results in more chaos than I easily manage… and that seems far less likely in his company, and with his help.)
…And both of us make an excellent cup of coffee that is so much better than this warm brown liquid that I’ve decided can’t at all be called “coffee” – it’s just that bad, and I am seriously missing something better… and my partner… this morning. 🙂
The sun is not yet up. Check out time is not for another 3 hours. There is time to walk on the beach, time for a bite of breakfast, and time to find a better cup of coffee. LOL There’s time to begin again.
A group of rocks along the shore, exposed at low tide, inaccessible at high tide. Even in that, there is something to reflect on, a metaphor in action, something to learn about who I am, and where I am headed.
I look at the clock, and see daylight beginning to show through the curtains. Definitely time to begin again. 🙂
Evening Light 