different, and the same

At the beach things are different. Of course, it’s all the same. Because it’s like the book says – “Wherever you go, there you are.”

When I’m in the room I’m renting in the house in which that room is to be found, feeling sorry for myself, there isn’t a beach within a thousand miles. When I was walking along the edge and in the water on Avila Beach yesterday, every amazing stone I stepped past and around was dropping my age 65 years to when I was a kid back in Wareham right by Cape Cod, filling my pockets with the coolest stones to bring home, like found treasures right out in the open. I felt like a kid, crazy happy to be at the beach on such a glorious day. You can see lots of photographic evidence on my Facebook page. (https://www.facebook.com/buddy.cushman/

I asked the couple in the selfie with me – Josh and Jane – while walking along if the place was pronounced Avila or Aveelah? They told me the former, and then we walked and talked and laughed – no reticence “connecting” with someone on the beach – Josh clear with me that “Avila Beach is chill.”

It’s pretty easy for me to connect with folks walking in such a glorious place with fellow members of the species out doing the same thing. A big “Yes” to the day. Grateful hearts, the warm sun, pointing out Pismo Beach around the curve, the Oceano dunes looking like a mirage on the ocean’s horizon.

I told Josh about this blog. Maybe he’s looking at it now.

Then, a short walk up from the sand, the very small Central Coast Aquarium – $7 for oldie me – staffed by volunteers from Cal Poly, earning credits toward their degrees, and wicked knowledgeable. Again, photos on FB. The fact is Avila Beach is breathtaking, and the whole time I was there and nearby Port San Luis, there wasn’t the tiniest of any poor-me moan to be heard.

After a while, heading back north, my fave table at Starbucks, writing in a beat-up notebook about taking care of the business needing caring, suiting up and showing up, keeping on keeping on. Then I came back here to this room, read a little, scratched this out, sent pics of the beach to Ann because she’d said a few times she wanted to go there. If I’m fortunate to wake up and post this for you today – Friday – then I’m still here. Where I’m supposed to be, gathering the courage to change the things I can. Usually me.

An octopus named Carly.