Letters to Myself from the Beach: in the Moment

You know you have picked the absolutely best spot at the beach when the lifeguards set up their chairs directly in front of you. It is both the Good News and the Bad News. Good because we will be the very safest swimmers in the water, bad because, well, really, it's blocking our view. 

Ah, well...

I am low to the ground in a beach chair, bare feet in the sand. I'm shaded by an umbrella, a mild breeze is blowing, and the sound of the waves is at the center of everything. At the moment, in this moment, nothing else matters. George and Alice are in the water, Richard and Margo are shopping for sand toys, and I am here, stationary, like the center of a clock from which the hands are turning, like the spokes of a wheel.

I spend a lot of time in real life feeling like I am caught up in the spokes, spinning in the whirlwind of daily events and too much information. Spinning without forward motion or progress. How restful it is to be still.

Comedian Flip Wilson created a character who was the Pastor of the Church of What's Happening Now. He meant for it to convey a humorous slice of the cool, hip, and up-to-date. But as I sit here under the umbrella, at the center of the clock, I see it another way. I am here, at the Church of What's Happening Now.

This week, I have found my place of worship. Next week, I'll try to remember what it was like.