The Place of In-Between

When I am in desperate need of help, when I don’t know what to do, I begin to backpedal a little.

I linger and loiter. Wait and sniff.

Which is also what I usually do when I have a date with the ocean.

See, we have a little routine when we have a date.  The ocean and I.

It takes less than an hour to get there from our house. This serves well as a much-needed transition time allowing me to re-program my mind and let go of my inland-bound life. 

My solid-ground life tends to grow these long tentacles all into and around me. It's not necessarily a bad life. In fact, it's rather comfortable and predictable, and most importantly I am (or think I am) in charge.   This life makes me think it’s all there is – jobs to do, chores to knock off, responsibilities to fulfill. I weather some storms, withstand pressures and navigate the chaos and  turmoil with greater or lesser degree of success.  Then, at night, I watch two episodes of Criminal Minds.  It makes me feel my life is not so bad after all. It may not be as Pinterest-perfect as the life of my friends on Facebook, but it could be much worse. I could have a serial killer on my back! Thus calmed,  I brush my teeth, double-check that all doors are locked and tumble into sleep until the next morning. 

I know in my head that life is not about checking off a to-do list, but you wouldn’t know it watching me scurrying around my moments and days.

I think there is a name for this condition – tunnel vision – and going to the ocean helps me get outside my tunnel.

The drive is usually quiet and uneventful. This, in addition to above-mentioned letting go my shoe-box-size inland life also helps build anticipation. 

The ocean never fails to deliver, but I admit I have my doubts each time. 

Then, I park the car and open the door letting the air in. I know I am at my destination. 

You wonder how do I know it?

I can smell it!