Feeling Sorry for Myself While Standing Before the Stegosaurus at the Natural History Museum in London Oh yes my friend, I’ve been there: the insects battering at the armored lids of your yellowish eyes the moment you pecked your way out of that rotten shell and dug out from your sandpit nest … And I’ve experienced the thud thud thud of your days, the indigestible monotony of everything’s spiny orangy-green husk. How the sun gets…
I went for a very long walk on the beach early in the morning with the dogs – a last scamper for them and another journey into my thoughts for me. For one thing, I found out those fish on the shore are redfish and they are being left there by fishermen who take their big hunk of filet and leave the carcass behind – seems pretty savage to me. And the jellies washed ashore…
One day several years ago a friend took a photograph of Tatjana and I and we looked so ridiculous that we called ourselves the Shmooko Family. Since Tin came to join us, he seems to have some of those Shmooko characteristics, so he is now a bonafide Shmooko. He loves to put Ele the Elephant on his head as well as other toys – we don’t know why but he does look like a Shmooko…
Knowing we were leaving the beach the next day brought on that old familiar sleepless night – it’s restless mind syndrome and I want to make it stop. T and I had had a good soulful talk the night before about how to deal with this avalanche that I feel all around me starting with the smallest detail to the largest one. It’s like my mind welcomes the changes around me but emotionally I’m blocked…
In beach combing, I seek the perfect shell, the one that the turning waves have not crushed or left indistinguishable from its origin. The first time I beach combed with Tatjana she picked up shells that had me scratching my head – they were undefinable, smooth, pearl-like stones. She loves them because they show that they have been through a lot to get to the shore – so much the edges have been smoothed to…
In numerology the number 11 is considered a master number and unlike other numbers you don’t add the digits to get to the whole, it is whole. The number 11 signifies unparalleled spiritual awareness. So today when I was considering that a special person is turning eleven, I thought what a happy day to be turning 11.
The time changed last night and it’s earlier than you think – and that my dear is the metaphor for the upcoming new year. There is still plenty of time to reinvent yourself and have yet a more interesting life than the one you have already had, which is interesting enough for most people. I am watching the sunrise from the beach house window and thinking to myself that I’ve been on the spin cycle…
There is a toast in Spanish that is “amor, salud y plata y tiempo para gastarlo” – love, health and money and time to waste them. We got news recently that our friend in Spain who has all the love in the world and money enough has hit a major milestone with his cancer. This news has weighed heavy on T’s heart since we’ve been here and this evening, I walked on the beach in…
I could write you a 1,000 word essay right now on why I need the beach to get myself centered, I could start with a website and call it Ineedthebeach.com and I could even write a haiku like this: Yes, I need the beach Spring, Summer, Winter, and Fall NEED it, I tell you And I could wax on and on about why the beach is just about the best place in the world to…