South Jetty Beach, 11/4/12
I alluded to the existence of this post in my last. The photos were taken, and the text was planned out but someone forgot to publish, and it is clear that we will find out who that is fairly shortly here.
One of the things that one deals with after a loss of any significant relationship is loneliness. Naturally, when you partner with someone you grow together. Your tastes change, your habits change, the rhythm of life changes to accommodate another person. It's natural to feel lost and lonely when there is an ending to a relationship like that. I am there, steeping in that kind of loss right now.
I have opened the facts of my circumstance to a number of people here in my new home now, it's been about seven months and I was getting questioned about my inherent sadness and when they hear my story, some people withdraw (naturally, this level of pain is difficult for some) and some give me the pity eyes (which I hate and also understand), and some people step up in ways that astound and bless and they just sort-of tuck you under their wing while giving you the grace to move away from that level of care when you need. I am so very blessed that I have a lot of the latter in my life right now.
At the same time, things that you once enjoyed with a partner are difficult to share with someone new, and for me - I guess it's the South Jetty Beach. It's my favorite place to walk. (Please tell me that you see the chicken in the above photo. There will be a story about that to follow.) For a long time, I wanted to walk the South Jetty. It was something that my husband and I did two or three times a week on the low tide. For months after I moved back here, I couldn't even look at the Ocean, let alone walk on the beach. Then I started asking people if they'd walk there with me, and for whatever reason, we could never make that happen. This series of photos was taken on my first walk on the beach alone. I took my camera (obvs.) so that if I decided I needed to sit, or take a break I wasn't drowning in my loneliness. I saw the piece of wood above and was shooting around it when a couple of local kids approached me. They were about 12ish, funny, roughhousing types. They asked me what I was looking at so we talked about taking photographs and seeing images and perspective and capturing shapes and light to make an interesting image. Then I handed one of them the camera and asked him to shoot what he saw. I laughed when the image flashed up on my preview... he grinned cheekily and said "Could be dinner, man".
There they go, off on their own walk. For about five minutes talking with these two, I wasn't lonely. Yeah, I was alone, but what the hell does that mean? Can we choose between the two, to be alone and secure and safe in that - finding connection along the way to ebb the loneliness?
Do we allow ourselves to be overcome by the tide of overwhelming emotion, to be tossed about, potentially lost to finding connection? I suppose it's a path that can be chosen, but it's not for me.
I remember standing there after those boys left, thinking, "I still have stuff to give." I have more life here. And even though I had been taking steps toward this realization, it was the first time I acknowledged to myself that after my husband's death that I wanted to live.
I didn't want to be stuck in the mode of loneliness. That's not a bad place, there's nothing wrong with it, but I didn't want to be there. And to not be there I would have to make a few choices.
Still not quite sure what I wanted, I've been noticing a few people moving into my life, and I've enjoyed them and the experience of getting to know them. The learning process of being open again to new people isn't always pleasant.
I've certainly not got it all figured out, and probably won't, ever - in a concrete way.
And then, in rolls the tide, and you get to choose. You get to see what might be coming for you - it doesn't all rush in at once, there is an ebb and flow - and you can watch it come in on the tide.
The yin and yang of what is coming. Sometimes it's sweet, sometimes it's bitter, and if you are lucky it's bittersweet.
And you find that you are not adrift, that somehow you are cemented in the sand. And it's not loneliness, but it's being alone and THAT space is a good place to be. Where it's a choice and you get to choose it.
It was time for me to turn around, I was getting tired, and thought, "Sure would be nice to walk back with someone." Then around one of the monolithic rocks shown above came THIS guy and his dog, and he asked for directions and so we starting walking back together. He'd just moved here from Texas, and this was HIS first walk on the beach. Funny how that happens, isn't it?
Sometimes it's random 12 year olds, and sometimes it's a random twenty-something year old, your elderly neighbor, the fed-ex guy who chats with you for a moment, the guy who flirts with you at the meat counter, there is all sorts of connection and being alone doesn't really have to be all that lonely.
Isn't it funny I saw that on Mulberry Street?
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