Sunset Cliffs and Mission Beach;
Swami's and Ocean Beach;
live music sung by some of our favorites,
as our lungs release so many years of holding-in to that churning Pacific.
It's a northern hemisphere summer to re-member.
You and I wade in a shallow, tidal pool.
"Our love has deepened," you share with me,
in regards to yours and your partner's dance.
"I simply realized that there is no need for me to lust after other women,
and that I can let go of holding on to the notion that there is something
better around the corner."
"HALLELUJAH!" I respond.
There is hope in transformation for us all,
if this ol' dog of sixty + years can shift his gaze.
"I'll just let LIFE play out its hand," you say, finally surrendering,
as we stand in awe of the rock-carrying man who has spent one year
moving 4500 pieces of Earth from the shoreline to the terraced garden
he is creating by his own two hands right there on a southern California beach.
He too is marking the time, defining purpose for his own self -
regardless of how he is perceived. It's easy to point a finger and call
"crazy." It's much more difficult to go within and rediscover the authentic YOU who won't be chained, who refuses to bee stopped, who calls out for his own Soul to return, again and again. Crazy is as crazy does.
Chasing after illusions of fame and riches, of recognition and fleeting desires,
is tempting yet empty. It's the gilded cage of an unsustainable way in which
few win and all lose.
Summer isn't over yet, however. It's not too late - to stake your claim and live your honest dream. My educated guess is that it includes one word -
L - O - V - E.
Your Gypsy Soul awaits.
