I know the day is going to be something that borders the usual when my gas tank is empty early in the morning, I'm running late for work, and I pull into the gas station with resignation in my heart...ready to fill the poor starving vehicle to the brim. I vow to do this not because of any disciplined fortitude seething through my body, but (honestly) just so it won't be so painful to repeat the process in the near future. The act is predictably counterproductive because as the numbers click by, the stabs to my wallet wither my unsavable soul to a husk. (Meaning... I really can't seem to save money, no matter what I do.) Regular gas, on the military base, is a mere $4.099 a gallon. Pennies. A shitload of pennies. I drove away $71.89 lighter in the pocket. Or on the debit card. Funny how the card didn't feel lighter, but weighed heavily on me as I spun my wheels the rest of the way to work.
Employment at a healthcare facility inevitably means undergoing a Joint Commission Inspection (or survey now as they now like to call it). It is a couple days from our turn to be scrutinized at the Naval Branch Health Clinic in Port Hueneme, and today was spent reviewing processes, procedures, and clinic business happenings. I've discovered I wish I knew half as much as I think I should know, and know about half as much as I would like others to think I know, about clinic goings on and healthcare processes. The work day ended with a tension headache and an intense desire for a glass of red wine. The kind that looks like a mass of blood you can't spill in a murderous rage, so you might as well drink down with gusto and a burp.
I left work late. Earlier I'd told Jim I probably wouldn't go by the Harbor tonight, but my van soon found its way along the familiar path, and I'm glad it did. On the way, I saw the most beautiful coyote, which I was glad I didn't hit...its fur blended in perfectly with the California scrub brush...but after I passed it, I watched it lope gracefully across the road in my rear-view. Fur a perfect shade of sand and wild bush...every step like it floated on clouds to the other side. It was peaceful. Beautiful. The moment reminded me of how I want to be in life, and what I really am. Wild, natural, but bound by the modern world that surrounds me. Obligated to follow the rules of man, or suffer getting squished. I mentally wished the coyote well. I wished for the dear canine to not get squished. I also wished that I don't get squished either along life's pathway...and that I survive the next few years among the political battles, the struggles, the strife, the constant push-me pull-yous...and that I'll be able to do some good for somebody as I stumble along the way.
The beach pulled me to her, my Cuba Libre in hand (definitely the best cigar I've had in a while), and I sat on the rocks and therapeutically watched two surfers brave the rough of the waves. The gray iron curls, spewing mounds of foam as they crashed into each other, didn't deter the short-boarders. Behind me, the orange sun sank gently against the backdrop of Ventura...and I said my prayers. "Om Mani Padme Hung". May all beings be free of suffering. May all beings awaken to their own true nature. I watched the surfers catch their last waves, riding in to the shore with the setting of the sun, as if honoring the day...and despite today's jangling chaos, I felt a little more lighthearted. A little more free.
Arriving home, Jim had fixed a lovely crustless quiche (broccoli and cheese!), and the makings of a strawberry shortcake awaited me as well. All of that and a glass of wine, and combined with my family in house...the boy finishing homework, the girl coming home with a new do on her head ...excited to have a short bob for the first time she can remember (let's not talk about the time I took scissors to her curls when she was little)...and a wonderful husband who had (for the millionth time) steam cleaned the carpet free of pet excretions and ranking smell...and I feel...happy. And it's more than the second glass of wine I poured tonight. It's remembering the beach...the ocean (each drop of water recycled through Buddhas, hookers and criminals, through Christians, Jews and Muslims, and Pagans, and Humanists), the sand (each speck a tiny part that came from a living being that washed up from the sea)....and knowing/understanding that we are all connected. Knowing that even as my daughter strums her ukelele upstairs and the string vibrations tickle my ears, this present moment (now, and now!) will live forever. Live forever, even as my son watches You-Tube while taking a long bubble bath in our deep master-tub, and the water in which he bathed snakes down the drain and eventually find its way to the ocean....finds its back to the waves where later the surfers will ride. Finds its was back to the froth that flies into the air around them. Flies into the air that I breathe.
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