Episodes In, Outside, but never Out of the Smoke-Filled Coffee Shop: The Old Man, the Ocean and the Shore

Some moments, days or years passed. Randomly, but I think somehow cosmically . . . Outside of (but not out of mind you) the Smoke-filled coffee shop . . .

I met an old man, one at the end of his life. This man was wily. He had the look of one 'who knew', coupled with the eyes of one who 'still believes'. It was evident that his old age had not left him bereft of thought. His body meager, his intellect remained alive. I don't know if it was all the people that continued to visit him, all the walking he told me he did, or all the books he continued to read, but he was still all there upstairs. After some BS, he seemed ready to 'let me in'. So, he told me a--in his mind, the--secret.

'Come here,' he said, 'come close and listen': "Here's the secret. Wake up each day--don't worry how you feel, how tired, how exhausted, how happy--wake. That is the first step. Then, walk to the shore and watch the sunrise. Don't go with anyone. Don't speak. Just watch. But, don't watch as if you are watching a screen. No, watch as if you are in the screen. And then, when the sun is just over the horizon, the signs of a new day fully bloomed and the people beginning to scurry about, then go down to the water. Let shock of the immersion set in for just a second. Then, bend down and swallow it--the ocean; all of it. And, this is the key--don't drown. Feel the heaviness, allow yourself to be overwhelmed, get to the point until you almost can't stand the absence of breathe--and don't drown. Drowning is bad. After, walk home silently and be. This the key son, swallowing the ocean every day without drowning." With a satisfied, smug smile he lay back down. Caught off gurad, I told him he was crazy and deserved to die alone.

Walking now, perturbed, angry, disillusioned. And, thinking: 'The ocean. Stupid man. Spent his days, his worries, his breaths, caring enough to swallow that ocean every day. Cared enough to walk down there every day and take it all in. Cared enough to take it in and then to live the day. Stupid old man.' I resolved that he could take the cares and the ocean with them to his grave. I would have no part. I would waste no more time. That night, I went to the smoke-filled coffee shop. And, then, it happened . . . The next day, bewildered, tired, empty, I rose. I staggered the short distance to the shore and stared. No thinking. No thoughts. Just silence, peppered with the crashing of waves on that goddamned shore. The energy that sent them seemed never-ending, maddeningly and beautifully so. The force was overwhelming and inspiring all at the same time. They kept coming; I kept staring.