Saturday, June 30, 2012

The Clear Fog - An excerpt from Rearview Sunset

Saturday, late March, 1999
A moment beside the water.  Much to think about as always.
I am caught in a fog; life seems to be moving so fast, almost out of control.  Some things that seem sweetly impure are within reach, while others of greater value, such as family and friends, seem to be distant.  A rollercoaster ride, I presume, and probably nothing to be worried about.  Seems I always manage to find my way back home, wherever that is.  Must keep riding the wind, yet slowing down to let it pass through me.
Right now, though, it’s not passing through me very well.
The fog grew thicker after a surreal trip to the white-sand beaches and late nights of Mexico.  I cannot explain the effect that it had on me, though one who lives life with the taste for adventure would understand.
I can remember the feeling of euphoria from dancing until dawn at the sleek, pulsating clubs, while women of appeal moved seductively about the floors, the inviting look of hunger behind their blackened eyes calling out.
I remember she who fell asleep in my arms on the beach as the sun rose over the ocean, waves tumbling and wind blowing thoughts through my soul.  I held her to keep her warm, close yet miles apart inside.  She was strong inside, respectable, and stopped me from doing what I am now grateful I did not. We just lay there and dreamed…
The trip became a part of me; its fast, uncontrolled nature sparked a desire within me.  There is another desire within me, however, one that I cannot ignore…
…The desire to be sitting in a boat on a northern lake, feeling the fresh air blowing through my hair as the evening sun bounces slightly off the soft ripples, fishing pole in hand, serenity in mind.
…The desire to go for a long walk in the woods where I grew up and to stroll in the forest where the grave of my canine companion, who accompanied me with unconditional love through many of those years, lies protected by the trees. 
…The desire to chase my niece and nephews around the yard and notice new things about them, things that I miss from being away.  They are so perceptive despite their young age, and they grow so fast.
…The desire to be lying in a hammock on a quiet summer evening, watching with barely opened eyes as the trees sway back and forth in the warm, gentle breeze as if they have no cares in the world.  Or maybe they just don’t let those cares get to them.  How I would love to be those trees at times.  Sometimes, when my eyes would close, I would see that beautiful woman who stole my heart and soul and filled them with the colors of morning, day, and night.  Someday I’d like to see her when my eyes open.
I obviously want to run wild and free yet at the same time walk with the breeze.  Someday I may have to give all of myself to one of those sides, maybe not.  Perhaps a balance exists that can satisfy both.
Seems like I’m caught in a clear fog, not really knowing where the highway leads yet believing that it’s going somewhere good...

           Beau sighed heavily.  Forcefully, if not angrily, he closed his journal and set it beside him.  At that moment, he was having a difficult time seeing the good that he saw just a few weeks before when he wrote those words, or any good for that matter.  Exhausting his thoughts, he looked back to the waters, which usually comforted him when under attack from the depression and despair that pervaded his being when the partying was over.  Unfortunately, they offered little comfort now. 

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