Tide Time.
About the only measurement of time that makes any sense to me any more is the cycle of high and low tides. I need my online calendar, and now the added assist of the phone’s alarm clock, to be prompt for Zoom meetings. I have to check every morning to see if I need to be someplace (rarely) or get the Zoom software up and running to not be a rude late comer and then I set multiple alarms for multiple Zooms if that is called for, otherwise the days blend into one another like puddles. Sometimes I’m focused on the day of the week but mostly I’m not. In a few cases I’ve not been where I needed to be or I’ve missed something important because the hours meld into one another and when I come out of the trance / space out / meditative involvement in whatever it was that drew me in, I’ve missed the deadline. It’s impolite at best and more than rude at worst.
The awareness of tide is reasonably easy by glancing out the windows but, best of all, I love to drive over to the beach where the surfers gather. High or low tide is very evident and I particularly love the sound of the surf flowing in and out on the hard sand beach. This week we’ve had a day or two of particularly high/low tides which means either zero beach for walking or a vast expanse for wandering. The crowds kept my immune-compromised being away for the duration of the warm months. In true Mainer fashion the locals need to wait for spring or fall chill for decent spacing, to experience the solace they find in nature. The tourists really did seem oblivious to masking and I find myself wondering if that was because they thought Maine was safer in terms of the number of COVID cases and deaths. Is there no awareness we each could carry or import the virus?
Not having beach walked for months, the beautiful evening along with a light breeze and gorgeous setting sun light, enticed me to walk too far and for too long. It felt so good to be out in that air with so much space. I was hobbling by the time I got back to the car and I needed headlights to drive back to the house. Two days later I was limping badly but I’m hoping it will pass soon so I can do it again.
The Marginal Way 