Out I go, heading in the direction of sandy beaches. Along the way my foot sinks deep into mud gunk that reminds me of clay quicksand. Shrug it off. The lake resembles a mirror as it reflects the rich afternoon colours of the mountains and sky. After awhile I get tired of my steps sinking into the rocky, overly mushy sand. I turn around. So pretty, I sigh.
Walking back, I thought about the first time I came to Sorrento, and this beach. Instead of sinking into mushy sand, I was tromping through deep snow. It was March of 2014, for an interview. At that time, I'd felt like a chronic failure in terms of getting my life on track. Wandering around for years only partially fulfilled; full of nagging curiosities and questions was getting old. The interview weekend was a whirlwind of confusion, and comfort. Getting back into the kitchen felt like riding a bike after years of not. The rusty wheels began turning; parts that hadn't been used in years came alive.
Long story short. A year ago almost to the day, I sat in the same lifeguard chair as I did last night. Dusk was setting in as the bright moon rose. The quiet evening was perfect for my questioning of ambiguity, purpose and impermanence. I asked questions out loud and settled into the stillness of natures response. Surprisingly, I came to a compromise, or rather an understanding that questions don't always have, need, or receive answers. I love them anyway, and can live with that.
