wax on
Oh, we had the most incredible lightening and thunder storm here in southern California Monday night. Lightening dancing and slashing and raging across the sky. Mother Nature’s electric psychedelics – all her way. Many thousands in San Diego were left without power. We were fortunate here in Encinitas – power remained.
I had swept the long driveway with the heavy push broom earlier before heading off for a sweet day of tenderness with the San Marcos kids, what some may mistakenly call ‘work’. By Tuesday morning, the previous night’s storm having departed and left behind an absolutely pristine, balmy day, the driveway was covered more than ever with Torey Pine needles and cones. I went back out there a couple hours ago, in lieu of my everyday (except this one) morning walk, because I wanted things to look neat and nice when the home owner returns today from an across-the-Atlantic trip. And also because I wanted the mesmerizing monotony of push here, push here, push here, now there. Attention all-in, leave no needle behind. Call it wax on, wax off. You know what I mean.
If my life, from this moment forward here early Wednesday, continues as it has a while now – screwy, amazing, scary, entirely wide-open for most anything – maybe tomorrow (as I picked up an extra shift with the kids today), maybe tomorrow when I make my way over to the Pannikin coffee shop and I’m at a small second-level outdoor table reading or writing or daydreaming or just there in hopes of inspiration, maybe someone will ask if they can share the table and I’ll say, “Sure”, without looking up. Then I will look up, and sitting down to hang out with me for just a little while will be Mr. Miyagi. I bet you know him. Smiling softly, sternly too. “You know what to do,” he’ll say, expression unchanged. “Wax on, wax off. Wax on, wax off.”
And I won’t then, and I don’t now, need to hear anything else. Chop wood and carry water, kid. Wax on, wax off, Brah. Just do the next indicated thing. Be bold. Have some courage. Have some faith.
Cause, what else is there, kid?