elemental
what woke me up was my ego. an irking sense that i should wake up, be connected, that somebody somewhere would be wanting, needing to talk to me. at that moment. unlikely. it was 6am. from my bed i could see there was an answering machine message, someone called me last night and i wasnt there for them. asleep, selfish, in my own world; the most important one. and panic erupted like a blackhead, i wiped it off my chin and out of my eyes, and i didn't listen to the message, because it was too early to know i've already done something wrong.
what got me up was the panic of parking enforcement. of losing my christmas money to the impound lot. of running out to pacific to see my truck on its knees, dragged through traffic wearing a scarlet letter. of riding my bike down to glencoe and washington, to see manny about posting bail, and feeling actually like a lesser person for having set a bad example for the others. what others?
what came to me was the noise. or sound rather. not the noise of the man dressed as darth vader playing the beatles outside my window. surprisingly, not the hollow drag of chair legs on asphalt as the cafe is set up for early morning happy hour. no longer the noise of flat-footed customer-service reps training for the marathon. but a rushing, noble din; the heartbeat of a bear. and i looked out to see 12-foot swells and over-turned trash cans and a couple running away.
there is a slight sense of disturbance. in the way of surprise, not dislike. a confusion as to how it got this way, who cannonballed a hippo 100 feet offshore and sent the water into radial dismay. i just woke up and found that my world was so different than when i went to bed. and it came from nowhere. and how long will it last? a helplessness comes with the awe; my luck in getting to be there to see this, matched with the unabashed insignificance of my being there, to any of the other players. namely, nature, God, the burning core of Earth, the continental shelf.
where is my ego now? it's lying on the hardwood floor, next to my laundry and the new york times from last last sunday.
what went with me as i went to move my car, the sound. and it stayed like i was leaving a concert. the buzz that very tangibly fills the space between your ears. it stayed with me, despite the others around. the conversations, the tired pleas for children in baby-prada to not steal the lego set out the "Toy Box for the Less Fortunate" in the coffee shop. people were talking, people were taking the day off to go see the waves. because it's historic in a sense. where we are, now, in our little town. it's our history. and more today, then throughout the saga of our president, our world's war, i felt a part of history.
the waves. ripping down each other, tearing off their shorts. shaking a mist off their crest like bloodied, sweaty boxers, head bent back over the ropes. down for the count, their blood and energy and training staining the sand. and when it hits your bare feet, this exhale, you dont move, you cant. the sand beneath you hardens, your heels sink, it washes over your ankles, your toes curl in deeper, and you become a part of the cycle; a soldier. there isnt anything you wouldnt do right now to keep it going, to churn it up, to help it win. to make it last. to keep you there, a part of it, a part of history.
