I feel like so many of my posts begin with a photograph of Guana Reserve. I have walked that stretch of deserted beach in every possible state of mind: scalding and still; with a cold facing wind; choppy and foggy; foreshadowing a black rain; and on those days when everything is so perfect it feels like hope is floating in on the crest of a white wave.
I was at Guana twice this weekend – trying to get in seven days worth of exercise and worship in two. I “saved” a horseshoe crab the size and weight of a wrought iron skillet. It was buried in the sinking sand and I hoisted it gingerly with two hands, it’s russet legs scrabbling for purchase, and carried it into a lackluster surf. It is fruitless, the rescuing of beached sea creatures; so I didn’t look back, I didn’t want to see it tumbling, helplessly to shore…
I have to say that on Saturday, with a waning tide and air so wet it was hard to breath in, I felt almost giddy. I was so grateful. So moronically happy to be free of guilt. It seems a small thing. But it’s also a big thing, like watching a colony of seagulls rise from the sand and grace the clouds with a scrim of lace.
I don’t think I will become one of those temperance advocates who tells you, “Sobriety is always amazing,” but I will tell you that this weekend I felt the stirring of true happiness. The deep, welling satisfaction of a life well lived. The kind of feeling that has you walking up to strangers with a fist full of shark’s teeth and an open face saying, “Did you get any good ones? Check these out! I know – aren’t they the best? Have a great day, okay?”
On Sunday, a “leg thing” kicked in. A catch or a stabbing pain in my hip depending on the stride I took. But I did an hour of Pilates, took Fiona to the park and Kim and I did two hours of sand and sympathy – always my favorite opportunity to cleanse (more like vent – are your ears burning?). Perhaps I overdid it… This morning I’m sore, but I’m here. Really here.
Have a great Monday.
Today I’m not drinking because sobriety is amazing!