Psychotropic

This happens often. I figure I’ll go to the ocean to swim and I’ll take some pictures because that is what I always do. And pretty much, I always take pictures of the exact same thing. So I figure I’ll come home pop out a post, make it short and throw in some of the pictures. It won’t need to be a lot of pictures because there is nothing really new and interesting here. I mean, for sure, it is a beautiful beautiful place and worthy to be photographed often, but why waste valuable cyberspace. Just go to any of my other posts and see the exact same thing.

So I do the swim, I take the pictures and I get back to my car and download them onto my phone. Then I take a look and I am blown away at how amazing everything looks. I wonder to myself, how did this happen? How did the light and the clouds and the water conspire together to produce THIS. This scene is surely greater than the sum of it’s parts. And the parts are pretty amazing by themselves.

So then I get home and feel compelled to come up with words to fill the spaces between the photos. This is usually not a problem for me. I have lots of words but I sure could use more time. Then I go to edit the pictures and somehow the pictures look about 20% less compelling than they did when I first looked at them. I’m pretty sure there is some kind of psychotropic effect of the ocean that enhances the vibrance of these photos that has worn off by the time I actually begin to work on them.

Anyways…today is just like the above and here I am trying to pull words out of my head and I’ve already got three paragraphs and have not even mentioned leaving the apartment. So without further ado, I leave a little after 10:00. It is a beautiful day and already 66 degrees outside. Wind is light and the beach on the webcams looks so inviting. Here I come beach!

I don’t get my usual “Glory of Catalina” view from Selva since I need to drop a couple things off at my Mom’s house on the way so I approach via Niguel Road today instead. Still a nice drive. I can sense the presence of the beach and ocean even though I cannot see them.

I get to the parking lot and exit my car and run into Sam on the way to the stairs. He has just finished his swim and you can tell that he is still under the influence of the above mentioned psychotropic effects. He nearly waxes poetic about what is happening there on the beach - hands and arms waving. I figure I better get down there while the getting is good.

Surf has picked up just the tiniest bit from my swim yesterday and the water here in the shallows is super clear. I walk out and start to swim north. Oof it feels colder then yesterday. Maybe Barbara was absorbing all the cold yesterday and now it’s only me who has to take on the full amount. Whatever the case, I’m beginning to think maybe Sam was exaggerating his description of the water temperature being warmer than he expected. Then again, how am I to know what he actually expected?

My body must not want to swim far from shore today because by the time I am approaching the lifeguard tower, I am inshore of the surf breaking on the low tide rocks just out in front. The waves are small but not so small that I would want to be between them and the rocks. Still it is pretty to see and I am surprised to find that I can actually place my feet on the sand here.

There is a pelican casually sitting on the water just beyond the surfers. I try to swim closer to it as stealthfully as I can. Pelicans do not really like close physical contact with humans. I can understand that. I love these birds and I certainly don’t want to scare them but I’d really like to be able to get a good shot. I get about as close as I feel I can get without prompting him to fly away, but it’s still too far for a high resolution shot. I don’t carry a telephoto lense with me out here.

I swim further west to avoid the surfers and then aim directly for my destination at the Monarch Bay Beach Club. The water does warm. It actually fluctuates but overall remains comfortable enough to keep hypothermia at bay. It’s beautiful and peaceful and I surrender life’s problems and dilemmas, which seem to abound in my head today, to the water. The water is telling me that everything is going to be ok and I am overthinking things (story of my life). What I like about how the water talks is that it doesn’t speak in ideas but feelings. I’m not given “information” or data to show me the ways of my overthinking. Instead, I feel the weight or, rather, lightness of what I am being told. The symbolism is completely different from human speech. Instead of the symbols of letters and words, there are images of water and sand and sun that trigger memories I cannot pinpoint in time but yet I can still access their sensual imprint. Thanks ocean.

I end up in the middle of these stalks of kelp and find my arms and legs intertwined in their vines. I feel like they are trying to give me a hug. I stare in all directions and none is particularly better than the other. I can see the kelp beneath the surface from here above. I take this all in for a minute and then head back to where I came.

I reach the surfers again and am well out past them this time. The pelican I saw on my way to the beach club is now gone. I wonder where it went.

I finish up the swim and reach the shore just in front of the staircase that extends from the homes up at Niguel Shores to the make shift path that runs along the top of the boulders at the east end of the beach. Any further now and it’s just too rocky. I walk up the stairs and let myself duly absorb the psychotropic medicine I just partook of.