C'est Une Belle Journée: March 2009

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Beach Therapy

My favorite thing about California has got to be the ocean. Growing up, our family would go camping every summer at Carpenteria State Beach. We’d drive the ol’ motor home down to the beach, park it into the camping spot and set up camp for the week. Those were good times. Some of my favorite childhood memories come those times. There were what seemed unlimitle

ss fun things to do there as a child: putting pennies on the railroad tracks for the train to squash, waking up early in the morning to wade about in the tide pools to inspect all the little creatures, me and my brothers and cousins riding our bikes into town to go blow all of our money at the candy shop…so fun! I visited Carpenteria last weekend to get away and reflect. I stayed at my dad’s condo and enjoyed every second. It was very nostalgic. I would walk around and different childhood memories kept flashing in my mind.
What a beautiful beach too. I really did spend most of my time admiring the how good looking and beautiful it is there. It’s the wind, the sound of the waves, the sweet smell in the air, the sand granules that get everywhere, the deep blues and all the little things that make it such an experience. One evening, I grabbed my guitar and went out to the ocean. I sat on this old abandoned lifeguard station, strumming my guitar as Iwatched the sun perform its colorful finale (and I took a picture of it, look above.) Amazing! If you have not seen a California Pacific Ocean sunset, I suggest you do in your lifetime.
This weekend was my downtime weekend, time to get away and relax and repair. I truly believe there is no better therapy than beach therapy!

...a story from a sunrise

When I was five years of age I went to visit my mother for the first time. Well, technically, it wasn’t the first time. My two older brothers and I lived with both our parents before our mom left. I was only one then, so that summer it was like getting to meet her for the very first time. The anticipation was huge for all three of us though. It was hard for us, as a five, a six and a seven year-old, to process what it meant to have a real mom out there who was our own. Our dad packed us in the car and we began our three day journey from Washington State to central California. In our excitement we began asking dad questions about our mom. We wanted to know everything there was to know about our her: who she was and what she looked like and if she loved us, and if she did love us why did she have to leave us. Our dad had never really talked about our mom before that car ride. He went still for a couple moments, perhaps pondering if he wanted to play our game. He broke the silence finally and looked over at us with heavy eyes. He said that our mom was like the wind. “The wind is born wild and free”, he said. “It changes direction often, and most of the time it is impossible to hold on to.” He reached over and touched my cheek affectionately and said he could see a little of her in each of us, in our faces and personalities. We quickly looked at each other to give a quick inspection of as if to gain more understanding. Eventually, dad became annoyed with our questioning and forbade further inquiry for the rest of the trip. In his own words, this period of time in the car was called “heaven.” We took turns, however, giving dad neck rubs to get him to relax in hopes he would answer a couple more or our wonderings.

The car ride felt like it was never going to end. On the second day our dad announced that we all had crossed the border into California which made me certain our whole trip would be spent inside of a car, leaving us absolutly no time to spend with our mom. California was nice though. The sun continually poured down its warming rays and the air smelled like sweet, flowery perfume. I tried to enjoy myself the best I could in the car. I had the window rolled down with my hand extended out, angled up just a little, riding it through the warm wind. I watched things pass by as the car traveled steadily down the highway. Houses became fewer and fewer with trees and hills taking their place. Soon farms came into view with their big windmills and black and white cattle. Some farms had lines of crops that made unique designs staring at it from fixed points as it went by. After a while, I would get bored looking at countryside and simply would observe the road. It was mesmerizing. I could never figure out if the lines on the road were painted on unevenly, wobbling back and forth at high speeds, or it was my dad’s poor steering. In any case, staring at the road set me into a kind of trance. My mind carried me away to a place where I was alone with my thoughts...

In my mind’s eye I see myself sitting alone in a quiet meadow. All around me there are rolling hills freckled with colorful flowers. I stand up slowly and searched around to see if anyone is close by. There is no one. “Hello! Is there anyone there?” I shout. I wait for a response but no sound comes back to me, not even my echo. Worry begins to set in. So, I begin to walk. I walk for a short while until I get to a large hilltop. Looking downward I see small body of water surrounded by a group of golden trees. Instinctively, I head down towards the heartof it. I weave my way through the trees letting my hands rub against their white trunks, they feel dry and smooth. Birds and other critters play in the branches above my head. I continue to move towards the center. At last the trees give way to a clearing and there in front of me, in the middle of everything, is a silvery pool of water. Brilliant beams of sunlight poke through the amber colored canopy in a luminous display over the pool. ...To Be Continued

C'est Une Belle Journée

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Beach Therapy

C'est Une Belle Journee

My Story...

...a story from a sunrise

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