Haiku on the Beach

(all except #9 written in a creative burst on Druif Beach, Aruba, 03/03/03. And yes, we really did witness the couple get engaged that evening just before sunset!)

1

Waves crash onto beach,

Then recede from rocky shores

Sounding like applause.

2

I have my riches

In waves trimmed with foam like lace,

Sprinkled with diamonds.

3

Clear aqua crystal,

Sculpted in delicate shapes --

Waves’ elegant art.

4

Pencil and paper --

My “Island Word Processor.”

Technology shunned.

5

Exquisite beauty.

No money, tremendous wealth.

Enjoying Nature.

6

Reading on the beach;

City stress so far away.

Sand between the pages.

7

I sit in the sand,

Not envied by any man.

Yet I have so much.

8

I witnessed a scene,

A man knelt to a woman,

Promises of love.

9

Aqua crystal waves

Arch, then shatter onto rocks,

Retreat, rise again.

The Ones Who Walk Away (for Dani)

Escaping the rat race to move to a tropical island. I think we’ve all dreamed of this.

I met her on the beach yesterday

And she had golden skin and golden hair.

She was playing with her son.

On the beach, on a work day.

And she had time to play in the sun with her son

Because she was one of The Ones Who Walk Away.

When she lived in Holland, she told me,

All her friends were good friends, and busy.

She couldn’t just call and say, “What are you doing this evening?”

It would be, “Let’s make plans for a week from Saturday.”

And when they did get together, all their cellphones were ringing,

And they only half paid attention to each other anyway,

Because their lives were busy.

And when she saw the sky, it was cold and gray.

She could have stayed, and been busy like her friends,

And lived like her friends, and made lots of money like her friends.

But she wanted something else, so she Walked Away.

She Walked Away from office cubicles, from rush hour, from dress clothes, from grayness, from noise, from busy-ness.

She packed very little, and came to this small island, of sun and sand,

Of saturated colors, and music.

She bought a small house in the hills just for the view.

She has little money, and sometimes that’s hard.

But she doesn’t need winter coats or comforters,

She wears old clothes and drives an old car.

She only works mornings, and spends the afternoons with her son.

On the beach, even on work days.

And we sat with our toes in the sand, the wind blowing our hair,

Drinking a beer, and watching the sunset.

She said I could find her here playing on the beach, almost any evening.

She told me that once her house was broken into, and they stole her BlackBerry.

But she never replaced it, because she didn’t need it anymore,

Since she had Walked Away.

Our Anniversary, and New Years' Resolutions

Tonight, we're going out for a casual dinner, and then to a live free concert on the Annapolis City Dock, and fireworks display. When we told our friend James about our plan, he emailed me the photo of fireworks for 4th of July last year with the comment, "I think it was warmer then."

Tomorrow is (as always) our day for introspection. We don't do resolutions per se, but we do have some focuses and priorities for the coming year - something I'd always thought of as Spring Cleaning of the Soul (don't remember who I borrowed that phrase from, but love the image):

one if by land, and two if by sea: Stretch our horizons by driving to one place we've never been before and anchoring in two places we've never anchored before. Stretch our brains (especially critical now that we no longer go to jobs) by reading one non-fiction book per month. I read somewhere that only 1% of Americans do this. (The reading, not the anchoring LOL)

tame the paper tiger: We still have no good filing system, now more critical than ever as storage for papers is so limited. Filing our income taxes last year was a bear, with us out of country everything was done via email, and this year looks to be about the same. Research, design, and implement a system that will help us find stuff. Buy a scanner for things that we don't need to keep in hard copy. Buy some durable, happy-colored file folders. Currently they include labels like "Boat Stuff," "Medical," "Taxes," "Receipts," and the all-important "Stuff I Think I Need to Keep, But Don't Know Why."

Lesson from our California trip about the care and feeding of distant friendships: Purge our address book of friendships we don't care about, ditch the people that drag us down, or that leave us worn out instead of exhilerated after we spend some time with them. Put more time/energy into connecting with the ones that remain on the list, these are the friendships that matter.

See the glass as half-full instead of half-empty: My current Facebook status is a reposting from my friend Beth: "Wishing everyone a New Year filled with magic and joy! 'We spend January 1 walking through our lives, room by room, drawing up a list of work to be done, cracks to be patched. Maybe this year, to balance the list, we ourght to walk through the rooms of our lives ... not looking for flaws, but for potential.' - Ellen Goodman"

I love this list of Resolutions for the Soul

Between the Holidays

I just love this quiet week: all the pre-Xmas craziness has passed and the back-to-serious-work hasn't kicked in yet. The roads are empty and people are spending more time with family and friends and I don't have to plan my coming and going around rush hour.

My friend Moni speculated that December is a time when our biorhythms tell us to hibernate, and part of the holiday stress comes from partying and shopping and scrambling and not honoring that "slow down" instinct. This between the holidays week is a great time for that slowing down to happen. (I also wonder if our prehistoric ancestors also had to use this time to strengthen their social connections, because they might have to rely on fellow tribesmen to help them through the coming winter, but that's a different post.)

When I was working I used to relish this week. The office was empty and there were no distractions and no deadlines -no one expected anything until January. I always used the time to organize my desk and purge my files and reflect on the last year and prioritize for the next. This year, we're spending lovely quiet time alone together, or one-on-one with friends instead of big boisterous parties, enjoying the snowy hush of the almost-empty marina and the cozy little circle of light and warmth of our boat. And, being pleased that we'll only have a month of winter and headed to Aruba next week. <*wink*>

Santa ... Or Not

So Heather posted this blog challenge to write about Santa. And my childhood experience with (or without) Santa mirrors a conversation she and I had when we met over Thanksgiving. She asked about the myths you were told about yourself as a child. I told her that my parents were exceedingly clear-eyed about their childraising, they did a fantastic job of not giving my brother or me any baggage. For example, my grandmother "Nana" (mother's mother) was a worrier. After my mom drove anywhere, she had to call the minute she got home because otherwise Nana would be sure, just sure, my mother had been in an accident. And if it was raining? Forget it!! My mom told me that she made a conscious decision, even though she worried about me too, never to say anything so I wouldn't grow up burdened by those fears the way she did. (Thanx Mom, it worked.) And I wrote about my brilliant science-guy dad in an earlier blog post.

So with parents like those, who were so careful to not lie to their kids, its no surprise that I don't remember ever believing in Santa Claus. I was taught Santa was just a fun game, a make-believe. And no, I don't think my childhood lacked anything as a result. And I know my relationship with my parents was awesome because I was positive they never lied to me, they never had to get me through the trauma of learning Santa wasn't real. The earliest conversation we had on the subject that I remember is my folks saying "Where do you really think those presents come from?" and knowing it was really the children's parents. (They did explain, though, that some people liked to play pretend, and they cautioned me not to spoil the fun for other kids whose parents told them Santa was real.)

That's not to say I had this dour holiday time - I remember my parents driving us through many neighborhoods on many nights looking at lights, or walking to see the displays in store windows on Fifth Avenue (I was born in New York City). One year we went to the top of the Empire State Building so I could see "all the lights there ever were" - absolute heaven for a 6-year-old. I remember having in my bedroom my very own two-foot aluminum tree with silver and magenta balls that I decorated, then took all the balls off and put them on again, over and over again well into the end of February (a gift from Nana). I remember family dinners with so many people we didn't fit in the dining room and had to extend the table to fill the living room with cousins.

Not believing in Santa also gave my folks a lot of freedom from the Xmas shopping stress to have the presents magically appear at midnight on the 24th. In fact, my mom turned it into a learning experience by telling us, she had X dollars to spend. We could choose either to have presents appear when we woke up like all of our friends did, or, we could go shopping with her on the 26th when everything was marked down, pick out what we liked and see how much further the same X dollars money would go. We learned we'd have even more presents if we waited one extra day. Of course, appealing to our childish greed was utterly successful - and my mom started a new holiday tradition of day-after shopping that I still love.

If You Were A Toy, Which One Would You Be?

What a great Q posted by Dani! I was certain I'd be a construction-type toy, took me about 5 seconds to remember this great one. I spent as much time looking through the tinted squares to make my world red or blue; or playing with marbles in the plastic storage box these came in; as I did actually playing with the toy. I also remember building constructions that I displayed on a corner of the countertop in my bedroom. Ah, retro flashback.

Searching the web for images of this toy, I learned it had won a design award in Britain shortly after it came out, I'm not surprised. I also believe mine still exists, in a box in the basement in Pennsylvania along with all our other possessions.

Random Observations on the First Cold Snap of the Winter

I like winter, in the abstract. In theory. I like that Maryland has a cold season to kill the bugs. I like to snuggle down and cuddle up and shift gears to a slower pace and make big pots of soup and enjoy indoor pursuits. In theory. I like the sense that the casual visitors, the summer crowds are gone, and the sense of camaraderie that is shared by those hardy few of us that live aboard during the rugged season.

But now, not in theory but in practice ... the wind has been blowing out of the north for days, pushing the water out of the Bay. We're a couple of feet below normal and from the settee I look UP at the bottom of our finger pier. To get out of the boat I climb onto the helm seat, then twist around, and boost myself to sit on the (chilly!) dock, then try with gloved fingers to re-zip the enclosure that shelters our cockpit. Down below, we have multiple space heaters running (after we carefully calculate how much our 30-amp shore power cord can handle before blowing a breaker) and the water's cold seeps up through the bilge and floor boards. The marina is quiet, but also a bit lonely.

December is the darkest month and maybe that's why I so love the holiday lights reflected in the water.

My friend Dave has observed, correctly I think, that day to day living aboard dockside is really not that different than living on land. In winter I think that's particularly true. Knowing we're not going to go out sailing again for months makes me less inspired (obviously) to keep all the surfaces clear and things stowed so we can get away quickly, a spontaneous decision to go out for a day sail.