A Sense of Impending Hope

My dog woke me up a little before 7:00 this morning to inform me that it was time for our morning walk. Oh Ocean, can’t it wait just another hour? You do know that the time changed earlier this morning and it might as well be before 6:00. Nope. It can’t wait. And no, she has no idea that the time changed. Well I know if I had to poop and had to be let outside to do it, I sure would want someone to take me. I certainly have plenty to get done and it wouldn’t hurt me to get the day started.

Well for 7:00, it’s pretty comfortable outside. We’ve got a strong case of Santa Ana winds this weekend heating up Southern California. It may get into the 80’s today here on the coast. When I leave for the beach at about 10:15, it is already 71 under a cloudless sky. So nice.

I get to the parking lot and step out of the car and it is blissfully warm. I don’t understand why there are so many parking spaces. The water looks smooth. The offshore Santa Ana breeze is less intense than it was yesterday. I ran on the beach yesterday morning and the surface was pretty agitated. Also, the Salt Creek lifeguard tower said the water was 61 degrees. I’m not sure I believe this. I mean I guess someone actually wrote the number 61 on the board and did so because they measured something and some sort of thermometer said 61. However the Capistrano Beach buoy has dropped to 59 the last couple days. Yes it has finally happened. The dreaded number 5 now occupies the left decimal place. We will get through this.

I get down to the beach and it all looks and feels so wonderful. The water is beautiful and looks so clear. The surface is smooth, as I already noted, but it feels like it deserves mentioning again. The sun feels wonderful on my back and shoulders and neck and pretty much everywhere else. Then there is the matter of my feet. They are submerged in this icy substance that gives them a sort of throbbing sensation.

I start to walk into the water and I walk and I walk and I walk. I don’t want to dive in. Yeah that’s right. I don’t want to. I am caught in this cognitive dissonance between the temperature of the air and the temperature of the water. Now I am taking note that my legs are starting to feel warm, but is that warm or numb? I suspect the latter. As the surface ebbs from belly to chest, there is nothing warm about that. In the meantime, the water looks stunning. It looks like 90 degrees. It is so clear and appears so tropical as I walk on soft white sand.

Soon I realize that I just have to start somewhere and that somewhere is right here. I push off as I lean forward and give myself over to whatever is next. Ok here we go. I can deal with this. Yeah it’s cold but it’s nothing I can’t handle and even enjoy. It really doesn’t take that long for the intensity to subside and I am delighted to be right where I am. In fact the water does seem to have its moments of warmth. The coldest parts of my body are my lower arms that dip below the radiated surface and my face that constantly has to adjust between warm air and cold.

Eventually I find myself in a similar space to where I was Friday where I am moving in and out from arctic cold to tropical warmth every minute or so. The difference today is that I would lower the temperature of both categories by at least a degree. I really wonder what that lifeguard tower board says about the temperature now. Boy I sure do like to go on and on about the temperature don’t I? I’m sure I’m not done.

Regardless of temperature, I feel like I am swimming through a wonderland. The water is so clear today. It’s been getting ever so slightly more clear all week. The surf is so calm today and I swim a bit further inshore than normal. So the water is more shallow which makes the bottom easier to see obviously. The sand is white and textured. There are these rock islands on the bottom. They appear dark and featureless at first glance but if you look, they are vibrant and fascinating.

Above the water everything looks bright and colorful and the world looks like it lives in ease. Of course anyone watching the news knows that this is not the case in many parts of the world. What amazes me is even on Facebook, there are many here in Dana Point that seem to only be able to look at the world through the vision of the ruins at the harbor. However as I swim here, there is no phone and no news feed or any other kind of feed besides the one streaming past my eyes on the beach and below the water.

I swim to the south end of the beach and I look out to the end of the point and see the many rocks protruding from the surface. I contemplate swimming out there for a closer view of the rocks and the birds I see flying about nearby. I’m sure it would be incredible but it’s just too cold and I can’t bring myself to do it. I know it all looks closer than it actually is. Some other time. I promise.

I swim back up north to the other end of the beach. I covet a sense of impending hope. Yes, I truly covet it. I don’t want to let it go. I don’t know where it comes from so I’m not sure I’d be able to find it again if I lost it. I watch it like a hawk and I follow its every move like a jealous lover. This feeling has been occupying both my waking and sleeping dreams. I have visions of a sunny horizon above a perfectly smooth blue ocean. There are waves of goodness coming. I don’t have to do anything to bring them my way. I just have to be here to receive them. I don’t have to worry myself with how they will come. That’s none of my business. I just need to know they are coming.