In The Surf... The Edge of the Ocean

For what it's worth I am not who I was when I wrote the following letter. Technically speaking, I am not who I was 24 hours ago, but that's not a point I wish to argue right now. Suffice it to say, I am still learning to be who I am... still running to shed who I was.

I came home from work this evening later than usual. I carried the dog out, fired up the iPod, and there it was... the edge of the ocean...

There's a place I dream about
Where the sun never goes out
And the sky is deep and blue
Won't you take me there with you?

Ooo, we can begin again
Shed our skin, let the sun shine in
At the edge of the ocean
We can start over again

--Ivy

For some reason I cannot now fathom, I thought this bit of verse important to share with Mary Angel. I remember I began to, but was distracted by Paula, an old friend of my sister. She had been emailing me, and I was all too willing to chat at the time because "things" here were... empty [and that's as far as I'll go here, right now]. I was willing to chat with just about anyone, but in fairness to Paula I was very pleased with the time she gave me, and the chance to talk to someone from whom I had nothing really to hide.

It was the verse, 'shed our skin, let the sunshine in' that had taken seed in my mind. It seems that's all I've ever wanted since high school, since Gulf Coast Community College and one of the worst mistakes I've ever made. A chance to shed who I was.

But then I wouldn't have met her-- Mary Angel.

As usual, when something goes to seed in my mind, I began writing. I was torn between where I was and where I wanted to be... Who I was... who I wanted to be. I felt that with Mary on more than one occasion, struggling with where I wanted to be; which was with her, and where I continually found myself, with people who cared nothing for who I was.

Unlike her. Mary Angel cared. And there I was decades later chatting up Paula and feeling the same way... stuck between where I was and where I wanted to be. Which is where "In the Surf" came from.

May 5, 2002

Dearest Mary Angel,

I wrote a bit of verse today. Something I thought you might appreciate. Something that speaks volumes to the indecisions I have clearly committed fornication with over the last decade and a half, if not outright adultery-- I have been unfaithful to my own dreams...

"In The Surf"

I came to the shore
And stood in the surf
Felt the ebb and flow of life
The push and pull of sand
      Beneath my feet
And the sand on which I stood slipped away
The rug pulled out from under me
And sinking deeper with each rush and retreat

I stood unmoving at the edge of the sea

And I wondered about you
      about us
And realized
To stand at the edge of the sea
Is to be caught in its ceaseless turmoil
To sink slowly into obscurity
Neither here nor there
Neither in your arms, nor out
Get in or get out, is what it whispers to me
But do not stand in the surf,
For nothing lives here where
Shells are tumbled and ground to sand...

Get in or get out
For no Love can abide long
Where hearts are tumbled and ground to sand


ELAshley
050402.110310.6

A dilemma, for me, if ever there was one. Where does life and love begin? On the beach? in the Ocean? I only ask because nothing begins in the surf but oblivion. And I'm tired of living in oblivion.

Sleep well my love,

      Eric

-----

Music for me, dredges up memories like the surf dredges sands from about and beneath your feet. With each sweep of tide, in or out to sea, I sink deeper. My perspective sinks deeper. I become myopic-- unable to see the horizon. So it becomes, for me, an exercise in focus. Focus on what I can affect, and cast aside like so much driftwood those things I cannot.

Question is, can I cast you aside?

Where I am this moment, there is no answer for me.