Friday, April 1, 2016

Love's a Beach...

It’s been months since I’ve blogged. The other day I wrote my first poem of the year (I believe) and it’s March. I’ve let my creative side slip into a small coma while trying to figure out the meaning of my life in this season and why I am the way I am. Ironically, I need writing to sort through those things. I need writing to breathe deeply into the lungs of my inner soul and then exhale into the atmosphere with punctuation and symbolisms. I need metaphors like a cat needs a ball of yarn to keep her active and playful. And yet, I laid it down to sort through my heart. Interesting.

My youngest son and I just returned from the beach for a four day getaway to stay in a private cottage. It belongs to friends and it is beautiful in every way. It’s homey and crisp, well decorated and relaxing. The island feels like home when I visit and I have secretly moved into the neighborhood in my dreams.

 Once on the beach, Tim (my son) started running. This is my child that is glued to something electronic every day and who has to be reminded to go outside and ride his bike at least once a day. This is my introvert child number two, so by now I know what it looks like. But this day, he took off like a gazelle, all six feet of him, running toward the ocean and then back to me. He looked amazing. He had perfect form and he looked like he should be in the Olympics, at least for beach running. He did this a few times and then, after running toward me said: “I like to practice my running on the beach.” I smiled and said: “Looks good T, you look real good running.”

My child, who is on the Autistic spectrum didn’t squabble about how often this can or cannot happen, since we don’t live near the ocean. He simply shifted into this free beach runner spirit and took off. My mom guilt began to wonder if I was harboring the next Usain Bolt in the suburbs of North Carolina instead of moving him to the beach to let him run free. My slight panic coupled with a quick prayer: “God if this kid needs to move to the beach to become the next Usain Bolt, please let it happen…”

As time went on Tim asked: “Think maybe I can take my shirt off now?” He was ready to shed his civilian land wear for the bare chested beach bod, be it ever so thin. “Umm, I’d give it a bit to warm up.” Cautious mom, ever cautious mom. I sat there in a beach chair in my bathing suit and cover up zipped until the sun assured me that it was going to do its job that day. After two days of rain, I needed more assurance than a half hour appearance. Tim said okay and went about splashing in the ocean, trying to build a mote, creating sand art, running etc… I thought to myself, you know you did something right when your kids love the ocean. I read and watched him for a while and learned a lot about living on your free side from my son that day.

I realized that life, love and relationship can often be a wonderful experience, no an amazing experience, when you allow yourself the pleasure of taking off with wild abandon and enjoying the scenery and breathing the air in big deep swallows. I learned that just because you live in the suburbs far away from the ocean, doesn’t mean that you can’t allow yourself the privilege to run free from time to time. I learned that the journey to freedom may be a 4.5 hour car ride and having your GPS take you off the main road to save time, but it’s worth it. I also learned that you need a willing participant, if you so choose not to journey this life alone, to allow you to be you and take your shirt off to run on the beach.

My mom nature would ask Tim: “Why are you carrying dirt into the ocean?” To which he would reply: “It’s not dirt, it’s sand” and keep walking with handfuls that he would drop into the water. I thought it was odd, he didn’t care.

At some point, it was warm enough to shed his t-shirt and me my cover up. This made him feel freer, me too actually. I had given permission to enjoy the elements without limit and he was happy. I was too. I sat there now allowing myself to be covered in exquisite warmth and my mood shifted from cautious mom, to relaxing mom.

This made me think of relationships of a non-maternal nature:

When you’re in relationship with someone who just wants to enjoy the full experience, no matter how cautious you are, no matter how many rules you have and how dangerous vulnerability feels, allowing them the freedom to be their full authentic selves in front of you, without limitation is a gift. It’s a gift that you benefit from as well because you will relax and receive an enormous amount of love and affection given by someone who is willing to share.

If someone loves you, wants to spend time with you and likes your warmth and embrace, continually fending them off to keep yourself safe only deprives you of one of the greatest experiences you can be having.

If you are afraid of love, relationship, commitment, fear of getting hurt etc… you’re afraid of life.

Life is messy and wonderful and necessary. Let the one who loves you run free with the sun on their shoulders towards you. Allow them in, not to extract from your life but to add to it the joy of being cared for. They were sent to you for a reason and you are a gift to them as well, you make them feel like they just set foot on the sandy shores of life and now they can take off and be free. You allow them the beauty of giving to you from the heart without question.

Allowing a true lover to love you is like letting an artist paint without limitation or a writer to write all the time with endless vocabulary.

It brings new life to weary souls who just want to fulfill their God given purpose to love unconditionally.

Isn't that worth taking a chance?

My dad told me once when I was young, that I wore my heart on my sleeve too much. My response today would be: “But isn't it beautiful to look at? It’s so full of love Dad…”

7 comments:

  1. Wonderful, Bonita. That last line... just wow.

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    1. Thanks Bro. I'm sappy that way... :-)

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  2. This is lovely Bonita! Thanks so much for sharing!

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  3. so good to know you are back writing.. So much talent Bonita. Bless ya

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