I have a terrible habit of writing in notebooks that no one ever reads.
Sometimes, late at night, I break them out and read through them again, notebooks spread all around me. This blog is my way of breaking that habit.
From time to time I’ll post some vintage notebook material on here. You’ll see something I wrote before; words that have rested in these lines and have never been read by anyone else.
I’ll show you some of the places I’ve seen, the ones I love and the ones I hate. The ones I just had to get down on the page. You’ll find these posts in the category, LIFE as I know it.
You’ll also find parts of my life as they happen in mid-stream, as well as things I discover about PLACE that refuse to fit nicely into the stifling convention of any category at all.
For today’s post, here’s something I wrote while in Playa Zancudo, Costa Rica, one of the most extraordinary places I have ever been.
I come to this page to write. To simply move this pen across paper, to pour myself into these lines. To write because I must.
I sit in the rocking chair and the warm, yellow heat of the morning rises in the air around me. Outside, the palm trees sway gently in the breeze.
A truck bumps noisily over the one mottled road that runs through this place, passes, then fades from my hearing.
The waves roll into the beach. The noise they make is difficult to describe. It is not a crash, but from this distance a gentle swoosh, sometimes building, sometimes louder and sometimes soft.
How I long to be washed clean, to be tumbled headlong like a shell in the waves, scrubbed by the salt and the sand until I am smooth and shine with new life.
This is why I have come here; to be purified by this place. To find out who I am here, away from everything I have ever known.
Birds chirp in the trees, and each tune is distinct, telling the story of the one who sings it.
Insects, perhaps cicadas, let out their long, sustained calls that seem to stretch against time. I hear the thud of a coconut falling somewhere nearby.
I sit quietly in the midst of all of this, soaking it in, becoming a part of it.
The separation between each individual thing begins to blur, blending, swirling, melting into the next.
I long for the respite of this multiplicity, to escape the harsh confines of my singularity, to become as one with the world around me.
I wish to borrow virtue from every detail, to become richer in my relation to everything, to swallow all of this inside of me and become less of me and more of this place.
I long for the simple nature of the ocean, the earth, the sky.
Oh Zancudo, lend me a bit of your peace to keep inside of me. Let it grow in my heart and stay there always, even when I am far away from here.
If you’d like to hear more about my adventures in Zancudo and beyond, follow me in LOCUS: A journey in search of PLACE.
To see more photography from Playa Zancudo, visit my post Emerson and Three Shades of Sunset.