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Day 1. Again.

  • Writer: fat.angry.buddhist
    fat.angry.buddhist
  • Mar 10, 2019
  • 4 min read



I knew I had lost an hour of sleep with the clock change when I walked out the door at 6:15 this morning. The pavement was wet. Sprinklers or rain? I paused. Groggy. Did I really want to do this? I knew the feeling of accomplishment as well as the power and renewal sunrise seaside brings. So I persisted. As I drove towards the beach, I listened to calm.com . I stopped for coffee, extra flinchy. Maybe too much SUV. I took notice of the darkness. My thoughts went to those seedy places that I knew existed non glamorously, tragically off of film and television. I couldn't discern the rain. I was contemplative and in that dark space. I kept on. Eventually, as I got closer to my refuge, I saw a sign for a seafood festival. This brought up more questions and wonderments. I passed the casino, loving the orange of the building and unable to look at it long enough to see if the pyramid texture was real and 3D or an illusion. I peered inside as I passed. The glow of machines. A dim, sparsely populated parking lot. There was that melancholy tug at my heart. I figured the only people in there now (if it was open) were those who were making serious bets and taking a chance with rent or food money. Hoping for their big break. I wondered if it would ever get so bad as someone would have their knee caps broken and bloodied. I passed the quiet hotel and thought all sorts of things, mostly about those who are dope sick, rolling or soused and ready to pass out. The sky seemed darker as I drove a road that lacked as much street light, neon or activity. Yet, I couldn't help but notice that there were many more headlights heading to the beach. I wondered if it was turtle season? Were people volunteering to help the turtles out? Did the increased cars have something to do with the seafood festival? Was there a run or walk this morning? It was too active for such darkness spitting rain. I'm often a lone car on these sunrise mornings. I sat in my car for bit, pondering if I should stay or go. It didn't take long for the sky to lighten. The sun's entourage must have told her she was due in the sky at 7:34. One the sky began to lighten a bit, car doors began to open. People as regular as me emerged and headed onto the beach. I grabbed my coffee, purse and two towels. I found a spot to call home for an hour. The seaweed was piled and hadn't been collected and hauled away. The erosion was always a devastating sight. It was windy and the was sea raucous with many waves. I watched the waves and a couple of the birds. People were loud and I had to remember they were allowed to experience this moment in their own way; not everyone wanted to remain meditative in these moments. And I returned to breath. I scrawled in a journal, took video or two, dipped my feet in the sea and snapped a couple pictures, aware that I didn't want to lose the moment on the phone. I filled my heart with gratitude and thought of those struggling worse than myself. I wondered if the little, one person tent on the beach was occupied. I thought of the homeless people I had seen on the beach from before. Once the sun peaked out of the clouds as much as she could or would, still giving a spectacular performance, it was time to go. Jack Johnson was the perfect exit music. The nap was beckoning. I carried the sand in my car and a bit of it that still covered my purse sprinkled into my bed. It didn't matter. I scrolled through pictures and videos. And caught a glimpse of what I looked like. I sat still a moment and looked at the picture with curiosity. I'm still 100 pounds over the goal. I felt way too floaty chair person on WALL-E. But my face looks like me now. The cushingoid puffiness of someone who is sick and the thinning hair are gone. I was gentle. And kind. And rather than see myself as an: ogre, beast, creature, and take inventory of all that needed to be fixed, I focused on the positive. I knew I was ready to move on to the next phase and reclaim my body back. So, I peeled myself out of the bed and did the first workout on 21 Day Fix. I did this with more energy and ability than I had ever done before. It is most certainly time. It was 10:30 by the time I was making french toast and I felt I had experienced a full day already. Sunday is usually a day of dreading work on Monday (especially this year). I am actively changing that. So far, it has been a beautiful, meditative day. I refuse to let the dread of tomorrow steal the precious moments of today; God willing, I even have a tomorrow.


So, here I am. Again. Reboot something.0. I've lost count. Somehow, that number just doesn't matter anymore. I'll do the best I can. This time. On this reboot. Let's see how far I may roam.


Mahalo, my good peeps.

Walk in beauty & keep being great.

\m/\m/





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