Extrication

I probably should introduce myself as Atlas, maybe then he will not be so surprised. “Wow!” escapes his lips in a quiet gasp as he attempts to rub out the punishing knot in my shoulder. Massages are supposed to be relaxing, comments about a patron’s hopelessly tangled muscle fibers reserved for outside the sanctity of this dim and peaceful enclave, for her vulnerability on the spa table is a breeding ground for waterworks silently sluicing from a faucet she doesn’t have the strength to turn off.

The new buzzword is “unplug”.  Held captive by our electronic devices which tether us to work around the clock, no one takes a true vacation anymore.  Even when we’re off, we’re not really off:  Peeking at e-mail to make sure nothing blows up in our absence, attempting to catch up while we’re off the clock so it won’t be so brutal when we punch back in.  Most of us are not good at leaving these shackles behind as evidenced by the countless women I see talking on their cell phones while applying sunscreen, burying children in the sand and running.  I wish I was kidding.

 

The world doesn’t ever stop. A colleague blasts an insensitive e-mail to the masses; a teenager chooses an unthinkable form of entertainment; the silent partner you intended to travel with ironically finds his voice as you’re sitting at the airport by yourself ready to board the flight. It makes you wonder if there is ever a right time to unplug.  And in the same breath understand that this is precisely why you need to make it the right time.

I ask several friends to travel with me; admittedly it is last minute, and all have perfectly logical reasons why they can’t. I could cancel; re-book for a “better” time.  But what am I waiting for, really?

Unplugged, I’m reading an actual book of paper pages, damp and swollen with the briny beach air. Peter Behrens’ achingly beautiful prose defines “The Law of Dreams” as this:  Keep moving.

And so I do. I let the stiff and ceaseless warm, gulf wind hone me. This is not my first solo pleasure trip, nor will it be my last.  I choose to ignore the callous e-mail allowing my out-of-office message to stand as my reply, pray for my troubled child and see myself beautiful in the eyes of the friend and his wife who steer me to and now generously host me on this island respite, as I decide to make now the right time.

“The world, latent, a gun loaded with chance and mistakes.”  Following dreams is like this.  There is no guarantee the road will be easy or enjoyable.  Or that you’ll get everything right.  But you need to seize the opportunities when they present themselves and give yourself permission to have a good time even when things inevitably go awry.

The path is often unclear, and to paraphrase Behrens, maybe my heart needs to crack again before I’ll know exactly what to do. Until that happens I’m going to keep moving.

I like to think that a good cry on the spa table means you’ve found true release.