Somewhere Beyond the Sea

I am writing this on a ferry, as it takes me away from beautiful Block Island's solitude in winter.  One thing was for sure: I so needed this weekend away. To escape from Clemsville, a possible job change, multiple upcoming meetings, and expectations for my graduate classes was an opportunity not to be missed.

There is a certain solace in touristy places deserted in winter. Closed are the ice cream stands, and no lobster rolls are being served up under the heat of the summer sun.  One can walk through the  middle of the road without worrying about a car coming along, just as Breadman and I did with Miss Lulu, the doggie friend, today.  There were three eating places open, one of which was only open for dinner.  The only latte I saw was to be purchased on this ferry, and it came pre-processed from a machine.

No one was here to rush me.  For nearly two days all I did was read.  And sleep.  And talk.  And walk. And watch a very funny, "bad" movie.  Hey - every girl needs her stupid moments.

Being near the ocean always puts me at peace, no matter what state of mind I'm in.  I'll admit it; I'm a Type A personality.  I rarely stop to smell the roses.  Gawd, I hate that expression!  Roses have thorns, remember?  The last thing I want are thorns up my nostrils.  But the cliche sound of waves hitting the shore?  For me, that's all I need to make me take a step back and put everything in perspective.  I had such a moment last summer when I stopped at Long Sands in York, Maine, on the way to a friend's home.  Despite the pouring rain, I got out of the car and walked along the shore - alone.  Exuberating!  Liberating!  At that moment I knew I wanted to write again.

Today's walks with Breadman held amazing vistas like the one above.  Bluffs (or are they cliffs?  I can't recall) stood at an incredible drop, only to meet the waves below.  I was too timid to get close to the edge, not trusting myself on the earth below.  Would it simply give way from under me, like the feeling I had with so many things back home?  Was I stepping too close to the side, only to get caught up at some moment to be swept into the sea?  

While walking we came across a labyrinth - a new age attraction where one can follow a path of stones while meditating, prayer, and thinking about oneself.  

"Do you want to walk it?" Breadman looked at me, asking truthfully.  I knew he would wait.

"No, that's ok!" I quickly responded.  I didn't elaborate, for fear I would truly sound like I needed the labyrinth's calming effect.  I was aware what would happen if I tried to walk along the winding, rocky path.  I would start out trying to think good, happy positive thoughts.  

And then the best intentions would just unravel, and it would be as if I were home again. I would be thinking about all I had to do, and how I needed to rush through the labyrinth in order to check my school email to  see if any students emailed me projects to check.  I would think about the two poems I needed to rewrite for next Tuesday, and the presentation on an assessment I need to give after school tomorrow.  The Spanish movie and questions I need to do for Saturday would also top the list.  My mind would not become at ease in a labyrinth; it would merely become a grocery list of stressors.  I was much happier walking along the paths to the sea with Breadman and Miss Lulu than examining my thoughts in the labyrinth.  

Boarding the ferry home was bittersweet.  I was waiting, waiting, waiting to see the kidlets, but at the same time wishing I could have a day or two longer to experience this sweet solitude of winter island living.  Perhaps I need to keep a bit of that winter Block Island in a place in my mind, to visit on those days this week when navigating away from shore becomes too rough.