This is Not About Lost Keys

I left for the beach at about 8:45 this morning. Skies are overcast and it’s mild outside. Somehow I have magically lost my keys this morning. I swear I remember putting them into the pocket of my swim trunks but when I got to the front door that pocket was empty. They have to be somewhere in the house. Where? I do not know. I have even checked the refrigerator.

I get to the parking lot and the ocean surface looks smooth. Things are calm and peaceful here and the light is a bit subdued by the clouds, but it’s nice. I get out of my car and the air is pretty much just right.

I walk down the stairs and try to unlatch my mind from my lost keys. Question: if my mind is latched onto my keys, are they truly lost? Oh what kind of a question is that? Yes. They truly are. Fortunately I can easily replace all of my four keys. However, I just can’t imagine how they could be lost. Between putting on my swim trunks and taking my dog to the door for her morning walk, where could they have gone?

Ok. Enough. This is not going to be a post about lost keys.

I get to the beach and it’s medium tide. The water feels about the same as it did a couple days ago but today there is no sun radiating the outer edge of the surface. It’s cool but not cold and I can feel warmer spots here and there.

Thinking of the temperature reminds me of an article I read a couple days ago about a swim relay in Lake Superior without wet suits. The water was not that cold (low 60s) but the article mentioned how one of the participants had previously swum 24 miles in 50 degree water. Whenever I hear those kind of stories, I wonder just how bad can the water here be? Well today it is not bad at all.

I head north today. The water is super smooth. Although it is overcast, the cloud cover seems relatively thin and gives off a decent amount of light. When I get to the point in front of the Ritz and look back onto the Strand, I can see a small portion of the clouds give way to the sun and it casts a silver glow on the sand and surface of the water.

To the north I see a couple of fishing vessels: a small motor boat and one of those one-man contraptions. I keep swimming north past the point and watch those small water crafts slide across the screen of the horizon as I pass them by. I watch the small wakes that will eventually break near the shore approach me and I feel my body rise and descend down their back sides as they slip beneath me.

I try to consciously expand my pores to feel the coolness of the water. If I can really feel it then the immediacy of its impact on my skin obscures the story my mind tries to create about how much colder it actually is. Nope. It’s really not. The longer I am out here, the better the water feels.

Eventually I am about half way between the northern public restrooms and the beach club, it is time to turn around. Looking at the sky I can see breaks scattered about the cloud cover letting in small peeks of blue sky.

Every so often as I head back south, I see a bird out the corner of my eye and I stop, roll over, grab my camera and attempt a picture. It’s a mix of Pelicans, Geese, and Seagulls.

I let my thoughts roam free and just come and go as they please. I try to watch them like a movie and wonder which thought or memory will slide by my consciousness next. Can I let it wander loose without trying to reign it in? Like an involuntary reflex I want to relive these inner impressions as if I am the starring role and I assume this style of method acting that demands me to pull them into my present experience and enmesh them with my sense of who I am now. I fall back and forth between attachment and detachment and grow dizzy as I become aware of the awareness of awareness of awareness and so forth.

The water is a pleasant blue hue and I can see glimpses of the bottom from time to time. If I focus my eyes on the actual water right in front of me I can see grains of sand and other organic debris floating all around.

I pass the lifeguard tower and venture back to the Strand from Salt Creek and wait for the bathrooms to come into view and then soon after come the houses at he top of the bluff. The first couple seem to pass very slowly and then before you know it I have passed about 8 or 10. The end is imminent now. I angle myself to make “landfall” a little bit past my usual landmark and come in just shy of the ramp up to the stairs. I feel good.

I head up the ramp to the steep and rough asphalt road that takes me to the stairs which will end up at the parking lot. I continue to play this game in my head of watching my own self generated inner imagery like a movie. I remember back in my early 20’s, I thought something was wrong with me because I felt like my head was filled with constant thoughts that held any direct experience at bay. Then I learned that this is the case for most people. It’s just not a big topic of discussion.