Captain's Log: Stardate 2018 August 6 11:46 PM CST
On this, the waning hours of our annual summer Texas trip - 1 part family reunion, 1 part pilgrimage, I sit by a pool turned into blackwater by a moonless night and I have an all-to-familiar, innate urge to capture this moment, to create something that will permit me to share this exact time, however poorly it may be. So, I write.
The slack key melodies from my Pandora Hawai'i station accompany the two small citronella pales that are pulling double duty as semi-effective tiki torches and less-than-semi-effective mosquito repellents, as I reflect and imagine. The pale yellow glow from the candles illuminates their corresponding areas to just about a 4-foot perimeter. From there the incomplete shadowy nighttime darkness takes over. I imagine there are tiki torches that cast a glow on pathways between island bungalows, simultaneously flickering in an ocean breeze as my own two "torches" dance in a warm and slight West Texas wind. The crackling rhythmic sounds of the jets from the sprinkler heads that dot the fairway just a few yards away have come and gone. Not quite a suitable replica of a tropical waterfall or Hawai'ian surf, but calming in its own way. And now the air is strangely silent, atypical for this Carolinian's ears. Back home, my thoughts would be struggling to gain a stronghold amidst the southern summer melodious trills and drones of the tree frogs, creek toads, and crickets.
I look skyward and notice that June Hershey's lyrics from the classic Texas tribute are again confirmed. "The stars at night are big and bright" indeed. Go ahead and clap four times - it's okay...probably required by some Texas statute, actually. There is Jupiter in all its glory, dominating the heavens with an egotistical shine that you absolutely must notice. There is also Mars with its marvelously red hue, giving Jupiter notice that another game is definitely in town for stargazers right now. A shooting star zips across the face of the vast Milky Way, which ribbons across a night sky littered with gleaming, brilliant lights. Clap-clap-clap-clap.
As the sounds of aloha surround me, I allow myself to imagine that my South Pacific double is gazing skyward as well and contemplating the same twinkling palette as I at this very moment, maybe even listening to George Strait or Lyle Lovett or Bob Wills, as though we are connecting across some cosmic pathway of brotherhood. My geographic brain tells me that this is probably inaccurate, at least in part. The sky in the islands of Hawai'i, just a few latitude lines south of here, probably look a little different. Heck, the sun may still be out there. Still, it is a nice thought. I envision Israel Kamakawiwo'ole (known as Iz to his bruddahs, of which I am sure I am one) is smiling down at me, strumming his uke, and wearing a Stetson straw cowboy hat tonight in my honor. Well, okay - maybe a palm leaf cowboy hat. But he is smiling...because it's returned to me tonight. I also imagine Willie Nelson, in a lei and aloha shirt, is plucking Trigger (his famously worn guitar) and smiling down on my counterpart. Wait...Willie isn't dead. So, I guess that visualization doesn't really work. Willie might be able to conjure a fitting version of this vision from the back of his tour bus, but I digress.
What is the "it" of which I speak, you ask?
No, it is not some alcohol-induced stammering or drivel flowing from the fingertips of some poor soul who has finally been pushed over the insanity precipice by a life of freakish busy-ness. At least, I don't think that's it. Bar tabs and/or medical records may prove otherwise one day.
No, the "it" is a credo of mine that I stole from a movie. Short version - to live in a state of constant, total amazement.
Now, that's not hard to do tonight. But, tomorrow, when I'm packing for our drive home, aka playing Tetris with my minivan and the luggage, bags, boxes, golf clubs, and various odds and ends, many of which strangely did not occupy space in our vehicle on the way out here, finding that state of constant, total amazement will not be a simple task. Neither will it be easy on our numbing drive down I20...for 17 hours. Sometimes, it's a struggle to live by a credo of such effort and rarity.
The battle against the status quo, normalcy, metaphoric sleep is real for the few. Life often likes to don us with blinders. They become comfortable and safe. We tend to anchor ourselves in the harbors of ritual, shelter, and the ordinary. Coincidentally, or maybe not, this particular credo of which I aspire to pursue was uttered on a boat at sea in the movie. Hmm...
So, for tonight, I've recaptured that state - a mindset of sorts - that delivers me. The world is good and magical and awesome, and I'm here to take part in or at least observe it. It is moments like this that I can recall when I'm on that interstate stretch between Abilene and Dallas or Atlanta and Augusta, where life no longer exists, and is subsequently sucked out of any one traveling through that area. I can recall it innumerable times when I seem buried under life's expectations or stuck on one of life's sandbars. I know that the amazing is still out there, be it in the natural world, the human existence, or the unexplained. And I am thankful that I am reminded tonight, and at other opportune moments, to pursue this state - constantly and totally.
Mahalo, y'all.
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