A slight winter drip from the skies as I slept, but waking now to an overhead casting of cool cloudiness. My mind at first wakefulness is wandering across the sea to Kauai, where I can plunk this chilled California body on warm sand, plunge into waters filled with shiny, bright fish that seem to always carry with them a happy face. I hear a mantra on those tropical beaches that says “deliver me from winter”.
Now that I’m no longer chained to a work desk, I don’t feel the same compulsion to get away. The self that I bring with me to Kauai will probably be the same one that’s been rollicking around inside of me now for many months, and I doubt that I will much change. I’m not tired enough or stressed enough to require rest, so I am not traveling to be able to undo or forget anything, the way I have traveled most of my life.
Before, during those long working years, I saw vacation time as a sort of Buddhist experience, a frantic desire to hide, bury, lose, or forget about the self that sat in the office all day, seemingly every day, year in and out. It was a time to step outside myself and temporarily not be me. When at work I needed to be fully me, or at least have all my senses full tuned, to get the work done required by my employer. I felt like a hyped-up, artificial version of my true self, and one that I did not particularly like, because I felt so constrained, modified, compromised, one among many participating in the false, Babylonian worship.
Now that some time exists for me to become me, I no longer have that urge to immerse myself in the nebulous aura of nothingness. Some few little pieces seem to be coming together within that desire to shout and celebrate, sing hosanna, as if some ancient, written resolutions that I’ve kept hidden and suppressed, are looking to come to life.