Lasting Impressions

Mon-

On Anglin’s Fishing Pier, in LBTS as the town terms itself to save paint on the street signs, tame pelicans lord it over all and try to pick up tidbits from the gawking tourists.  They haven’t caught on to the money to be made from posing.  The pier’s private owner has, so there is a $2 per person charge for entrance.  It must be admitted that this is a very nice pier, long and well maintained, picturesque, and with the pelicans and almost as amusing the tourists, certainly worth the cost for entertainment value alone.

We enter our final week before heading back to Huntington normal.  It may be a little hard to get up to speed after what has been essentially a month of what they claim is the goal of meditation.  No thoughts, empty mind, days slipping by.  Or, if you prefer, Margueritaville.   No worries.  Just letting more days pass, happily in ourselves and the beauty of a warm sunlit place.
Tue-

Beginning the real season now.  Almost an impressionist painting in the center of town, colors and people and drinks all over.  Never-never land, and like all fantasies it is probably best to just give in and go along with the dream.  Reality will return soon enough.

Reality is a bit more amorphous for me, now that I am retired.  There used to be a clear division of things I hated to do, or things I didn’t want to do at particular times and at the whims of others.  For me, that was reality, and I tried to fit my own world around it as best I could.  Now everything and everytime is my own, and I am only gradually (but very happily) adjusting to that fact.
Wed-

Another sunrise.  Facing the Atlantic over the beach makes the early morning a defining feature, which eventually brings home the inevitability of truly big events.  King Canute could not forbid the tides, nobody can declare the Earth should stop turning, power has limits.  Individuals can hide from the sunlight, or use air conditioning to mitigate its effects, or ignore it, but day follows night regardless.

That is not unlike all those clamoring voices clamoring that by merely following their advice and paying for their predictions, I can avoid known catastrophe.  I can double money entrusted to their care; I can prevent aging and death by purchasing their juices or magic elixirs or potent pills; I can guarantee happiness and prosperity to my offspring (or myself) by following the advice in their book.  But the sun rises anyway.  Finances rise and fall.  Aging occurs.  All life dies.  My offspring (and myself) will, like all humans, endure our share of comedy and tragedy and glory, regardless.
Thu-

Humans frolicking in herds on the beach, relatively free of cares and worries.  They were evolved for this planet, and in spite of all the world’s and their own troubles, they still fit into it perfectly and enjoy its enchanted majesty if they give themselves half a chance.  That is what vacations are truly for.

Global worries abound _ catastrophes, long-term deterioration, elimination of species, pollution, population, disease, hunger.  Local worries abound _ storms, climate, crime, society.  Personal worries abound _ finances, career, health, mortality, control.  Yet even now, in the larger picture, the days are beautiful, wonders are everywhere, and I can rest content with life, imperfect as it may sometimes seem.
Fri-

In spite of almost total redevelopment of every inch of ground on this barrier island, a few creatures remain to enchant us.  Pelicans, porpoises, parrots and people, amidst the palms, shells and assorted other vegetable and animal species.  Including these delightful tiny ubiquitous lizards that scatter from their sunning to hide under hedges as giants stride by.

I hope that it is not too late for our species to achieve social and technological maturity to preserve many of these wonders.  Our immense growth spurt has placed things on a knife edge _ some days I am extremely hopeful, others despondent.  Time _ which I do not have _ will tell, but today _ the time which I do have _ can be spent appreciating all that remains.  Thankfully, an awful lot does remain.
Sat-

Into every life some rain must fall.  Sunny south Florida during February this year has been mostly not raining, although clouds and wind were often abundant.  In an interconnected world, the true variations of local climates can be forgotten, but they remain as powerful and strong as always.  Today a few strong showers will sweep through off and on, nothing like the Northeasters to be encountered further up the coast.

So a lasting remembrance of this long vacation is dry days, warming cool days, at least some sunshine always due soon.  It is probably most people’s vision of this place, and surely the one promoted by tourist guides, and fairly accurate at this time of year.  Stubbornly, I cling to the idea that seasons are wonderful and I like the procession of life and storm, even through snow and cold.  But even I am forced to admit that I would not miss February in Huntington at all.
Sun-

Final lasting memories are of ceaseless surf and happy people.  The ocean does what it has done for billions of years and will do for billions more, life or no life.  People flicker by without registering in the geologic time scale, but each is filled with infinite moments and experiences.  At this time and place, everyone was relaxed and joyful and purely enjoying a fine time, mostly heedless of worries and cares.

That is reality also.  We focus on the malcontents and badly adjusted and psychopathic and tortured, which fill our news and haunt our dreams.  But most of us, here and now, do not live amidst such aberrations.  Most of us, our friends, our families, our communities, are positive and grateful for the chance to be who we are.  This vacation has helped me remember that, and to put all my roiling thoughts into perspective.

 

 

Sandcastles

Mon-

Almost anyone with access to the beach as a child has built at least one sandcastle, although nowadays serious adults usually produce “sand sculpture.”  Castles must be built relatively near the tide lines, because otherwise the sand is too dry.  That means that eventually, no matter how magnificent the structure, one wave or another from the rising sea will erase it completely.  That is one of their peculiar charms, a lesson in life framed as a playful pastime.

When older folks review their lives they begin to realize how much like sandcastles our certainties and ambitions have been.  The solidity of childhood, parents, early friends, young children, prideful career melt when encountering the irresistible waves of the future.  Our bodies themselves erode over time, waiting for the final inundation of mortality to level them back with all the countless other grains.  Yet that makes us appreciate all the more the eternal moments we have experienced as we concentrated on various turrets and walls and whatever else possessed our imaginations.   As the song says, “they can’t take that away from me.”
Tue-

Geology claims that just about anywhere on the planet was once along or under an ocean, so everywhere is a once and future beach.  The sandcastles people build are only of slightly longer duration than those of children, and are similar in being often decorated with frivolous details to their main purpose.  In this case it is the fountain, the palm trees, and the square in the upper left which is a clamshell half roof painted (crudely) to resemble the real sky.  Nobody needs any of that nor the landscaped parking lot in order to buy something.

Architects would claim that aesthetic touch adds value, and they are right.  But why that should be so in the cold calculating social and economic world that “social scientists” inhabit is a complete mystery.  At least to such frigid minds.  I believe it is one of our most wonderful attributes that we add beautiful but functionally useless embellishments to everything we do.  That separates us from the robots.
Wed-

Other creatures build structures, notably this coral which washes in constantly from a reef just offshore.  Some of it is destined, like the chunks here, to be ground into sand.  Some becomes embedded in sandstone, or with time and pressure turns into limestone or eventually is metamorphosed into marble.   It is difficult to imagine any shopping center or nuclear power plant being transformed into anything as beautiful as marble, but over geologic eons, who knows.

Lately, strong “scientific” theses are being advanced about non-human animal consciousness.  I do not think coral, or puppies, or dolphins can appreciate the beauties of those various forms of rock.  Our experiential awareness is several orders of magnitude _ possibly an infinite degree of separation _ from the thoughts of those minds.  I do not mean to lower the cosmic value of all forms of life, but rather to emphasize just how gloriously unique and privileged we each are.
Thu-

Lauderdale by the Sea, town center, evokes the temporary spirit of sand castles appropriately.  Unlike its monolithic neighbors marching down the shore, each looking like it could withstand an apocalypse or two, this area looks like it could be blown off by sea surge or hurricane.  Somehow, that seems right for building on a sand spit.

Besides, that is also the spirit of the tourists passing through.  None of them are making plans for the ages _ most of them are probably trying to forget the problems and failures of plans for the ages.  The locals are not into eternal memories either _ they just want to dip into the stream of money flowing by as they sell trinkets and serve food and drink.  It’s fun to let the inner child play once again.
Fri-

Break from sand and decay and gloomy thoughts _ it’s vacation after all.  Even if here in South Florida the temperatures plunging into the high thirties with fierce winds have driven those who cannot find down parkas to thoughts of suicide.  Nevertheless, the sun manages to put on a fine show each morning.

One of the greatest gifts we have, I think, is this chance to always wake to a new day.  I have never been one to hate sleep, although I sometimes wished I needed a little less of it.  But. like the sun, we get to restart and shine for a while, regardless of the past and before the moments weigh too heavily.
Sat-

Like many other places, Fort Lauderdale styles itself the “Venice of….”   Canals alone do not make a beautiful city, although all of them collect the flotsam of heavy winds and lax tides.  Here, amidst the coconuts and garbage, a dead pelican. 

We all last longer than a typical sandcastle, although perhaps not so long as a few of the things we create.  But only we experience each day as if it is endless, each moment as if it goes on forever, each experience as if it is simply a window into deeper and grander mysteries seen and unseen.  Time for us is as fluid as water in these canals, and the occasional dead bird is a warning we easily ignore.
Sun-

 

 

Since anthropomorphic tales are such fun, we can picture the sea as carving its own castles _ the beaches themselves,  the barrier islands, even this tiny cliff resulting from high winds.  Every day it resculpts the shoreline into a slightly new pattern.  Well, not entirely true.  One grain may seem identical to another, but of course each is truly unique at the subatomic level, and each composing atom has its own complex history over eons of time, and grains are shifting constantly with wave and current and wind. 

The ocean tends to evoke mighty metaphors and grand moralistic stories.  Hypnotic and powerful, we imagine it as implacable and relentless.  But all those adjectives are tinged by being applied to humans as well, and human connotations change everything.  For now, I empty my mind and enjoy the play of water and sand and where we all have been and may go.

 

 

Snowbirds Swelling

Mon-

Driven by mysterious instinctual migratory urges, flocks of humans darken the skies and cover southern beaches beginning around this time of year.  Often their temporary sandy nests are adorned with colorful scraps of all sizes and shapes.  Curiously, this display behavior is most present in those well past courtship age.  Many curious monographs have been written on the phenomenon by various xenobiologists.

Unfortunately, in spite of bitter protests from the scientific community, this peculiar natural marvel will soon be entirely lost with the construction of a new hyperspace shunt.

Tue-

According to native American legend, the “New River” in Fort Lauderdale appeared suddenly after a night of earth shaking.  But its name is prosaically attributed to frustrated early cartographers because the inlet through the barrier island out to the ocean kept shifting by miles every time they remapped it.  I suppose it’s better than some of the other words they probably used.
 

In typical Florida fashion, the city goes to a lot of trouble to make a beautiful parkland and restaurant-lined plaza along a lovely stretch of water, then lets insanely huge boats tie up alongside to completely block the view.  That seems to be a common quirky aesthetic around here, a nice conception, a hint of beauty, then a prosaic slide into common ugliness, as if the original vision fades and is blurringly erased by selfish private wealth working its wonders.

Wed-

  

Although Sisyphus today has a big machine to help, his task remains unending and essentially undoable.  This guy tries to hide the residue of every high tide under a blanket of sand, while incidentally picking up the worst of the trash that also floats ashore.   No matter how successful he may be, the whole thing happens again in twelve hours.  Forever.

We want our beaches “pristine.”  Gleaming white sand, unblemished by dead fish, rotting vegetation, or the garbage that an increasing polluted ocean regurgitates.  No snakes, no bugs, no thorns.  As someone who has had a day at the beach ruined by a swarm of mosquitoes, a few pesky greenhead flies, or the stink of decaying flesh, I admit that I am as effete and hypocritical as anyone else.  I want to experience nature, but only after vast amounts of effort and fuel oil have sanded down the rough edges.
Thu-

Could be almost any shoreline anywhere.  Seagulls may not have arrived with people _ as so many invasive species have been spread throughout the world _ but they certainly thrive wherever humans do.  The fact that humans also provide all the mounds of garbage necessary for food supplies probably means that these birds do not directly compete with locals.

Seagulls are incessant scavengers, beautiful in flight.  Each aggressively defends its own turf, driving others away from a self-perceived treasure with shrieks, beak thrusts, and short charges.  If gene cross transplantation ever takes over, a few chromosomes from them would probably make a more effective class of managers and entrepreneurs.  They even know when they are outclassed and take wing to easier locales, in the avian equivalent of declaring bankruptcy.
Fri-

Beach peas in profusion on a dune with grasses bearing sharp burrs (from barefoot experience) and holes probably dug by rats.  Fifty years ago, such wild patches in abandoned or undeveloped lots on the Jersey shore filled my young imagination with thoughts of how wilderness had been conquered, leaving these reminders of its might.  Now there are no heartlands of wilderness, and when the seas rise perhaps the last beach peas will be gone.

Beauty will remain.  Begonias and orchids, roses and seagulls, will probably remain as long as humans endure.  Not butterflies nor beach peas.  I have lived through the beginning of the sixth extinction, and fortunately will not live to see its completion.
Sat-

Sunrise over the ocean as theatrical it always is every dawn everywhere every time.  Beautiful, awesome, majestic, no art can do it full justice.  Beyond the magic of illuminating a new world after our profound vanishing into the darks of sleep, it represents a beginning afresh, and wonders to be seen and done, and hope and warmth.

That I can use such words, and you can find them meaningful, is one of the reasons human experience is unique.  A mechanical intelligence could document the exact moment the red ball appears on the horizon, but can it be capable of why that is “theatrical,” “magic,” or “hopeful.”  I think not.  Recreating emotions and sensations and being, which depend on chemicals and hormones more than electrical connections, is beyond any conception of current artificial intelligence attempts. Not celebrating complicated human glory is a crime against our self.
Sun-

Fallen coconut shell in front of a fallen palm log on the only open space for miles along the beach.  I am not sure if the lack of a huge skyscraper here indicates insufficient financing or the presence of a public park.  Maybe that is a tautology _ I suspect adequate financing could purchase any public land.  For the moment, it is refreshing to have a semi-large grassy expanse behind the dunes of the beach.

Not too many people along the shore today, it being cold by southern Florida standards.  People get here and quickly get in huff along the lines of “I refuse to wear a jacket when I am paying all this money for warm weather.  Let’s go eat at a restaurant instead!”  It’s very easy to let expectations cloud reality.  What would have seemed heavenly to folks a day ago in New York is now a cruel twist of fate from nature robbing them of happy times getting a tan.  Me _ well I’m grateful to experience cold or warm or rain or sun _ just about anything at all.  It’s the alternative that’s bad.

 

 

Florida February

Mon-

Humans are destroying the planet, extinguishing the biozone, doing terrible things to each other.  But, boy, can they build when they want to.  An extensive, convenient, and relatively inexpensive miracle of air travel gets one away from ten degree temperatures in hours, and allows some of us to spend time in the man-made cliffs lining the ocean down here near Fort Lauderdale.

The problem always was, and continues to be, balance and limits.  What is too much?  How far is too far?  How do we stop ourselves when we know we must.  Or are we doomed to destruction?  Well, I’ve added my own bit of excess, and here I am in a fine warm place for a while.

Tue-

Monstrous skyscrapers march along the shore, an artificial dune of immense proportions, filled with coral-like residents who each decorate their little cubic spaces and try to figure out what to do with the day.  It’s all cash all the time, because there are almost no public spaces and in a few years the income-starved local governments will probably be charging for air to breathe.

Most of the population here _ permanent or temporary _ is old.  Some places seem an inch from becoming a necropolis.  Even the young people _ servitors to the ancient geezers wheezing around_ move in a deliberate rhythm, as if lightly infected by the disease (of aging) that is slowly killing everyone around them.
Wed -

The Atlantic is like the Atlantic everywhere _ harsh and rough most of the time, with the wind usually blowing inland.  Wave follows wave, as waves have in all oceans since the first waters submerged the planet.  The continents may have changed, life may have arisen, the composition of the atmosphere may have metamorphosed, but breakers like these rolled in ever and ever.

I become hypnotized, lost in time and space, watching the everlasting patterns that are never identical, constantly moving.  Sounds lull me into a meditative trance.  Sand cushions my toes perfectly.  At least for a time, all is perfect.  But since I myself am not perfect, I will become bored and move on soon enough.
Thu-

Even here along a shoreline that looks more built up with skyscrapers than Manhattan, a small strip of wild dune is left between the buildings and the beach.  Maybe it is aesthetic _ there is certainly not enough to protect from storms.  Palm trees, grasses, beach peas, and a surprising number of other species eke out a living as constricted as that of the humans roaming the small condo cubicles above them.

Typically, this should provoke a lament on how people have destroyed nature.  But I have seen remnants of the natural wild state of this strip at a couple of state parks nearby.  Even though the countless snakes that originally slithered through the impenetrable mucky thickets and the swarms of insects that clouded the swamps are long gone, the remaining dense tangle is hardly the place for a relaxing vacation.  All in all, I guess I prefer it as it is.  I just wish there were some Michelangelo of coast development determining a better set of aesthetic considerations rather than the stark functional soviet housing blocks it has become.
Fri-

Portuguese Man o’War is as odd as its name.  I thought at first it was all jelly, but careful poking shows it is a tough balloon.  Reading indicates that not only is it venomous, but more startling it is not even a true multicelled organism.  More like a beehive colony of single cells, which somehow support the shape, the air inside, and the venomous tentacles that swimmers (and beachcombers) should avoid.

I suppose, since it is classed under hydrozoa, that ancestors of this creature diverged from ours early on.  I further suppose there would be little if any fossil record of their changes over the eons.  Perhaps they have been around in the same shape since before creatures made it to land, or before there were multicelled animals at all.  These interesting but useless speculations are both a blessing and a curse of our consciousness.  It’s wonderful that we have the capacity to learn and think of elements of our universe so alien to our everyday experience.
Sat-

Temperatures reported on the news are a little deceptive.  With gale-force winds whipping off the Atlantic, churning the surf into a fury, a person can chill down awful fast, even after chasing a hat down the beach.  So far, the winds have hardly ceased, and it feels at least five, sometimes ten, degrees colder than are measured inland a ways. 

Except for the high-rises, it can look like Maine, lighthouse and all.  Florida lighthouses I have seen look much better from a distance then up close.  They are none of the European/New England cute stone fortresses, but rather squat black iron water towers braced by utilitarian ugly black iron beams.  Post-civil war military utilitarian aesthetic.  That period gave us the Brooklyn Bridge, the Eiffel Tower, a lot of historic New York and Paris, but passed Florida by.   Of course, almost nobody lived here until the 1920’s, it was truly a wilderness zone.
Sun-

Sign at (private _ $2 to get on) Lauderdale pier reads “sea turtle nesting,” and countless signs along the main highway advise that  street lights are dimmed during the nesting period.  Turtles are an ancient order, although not nearly so ancient as the jellyfish which are one of their main food sources.  Ocean warming and possibly pollution have dramatically increased the jellyfish supply, and perhaps the turtles are rebounding as well.  Humans may be a silver lining for a few creatures beyond cockroaches, rats, and seagulls!

We have an odd place in our heart for turtles.  They’re not exactly cute, but they seem about the least threatening objects around.  Nobody has nightmares of being pursued by a giant tortoise, nor dreads being locked in a dark closet with a sea turtle.  We don’t worry about falling overboard and finding one swimming toward us, and even the most ingenious and bloodthirsty cultures and rulers have unable to work them into torture.  I wish them health, although I’ve never seen a live one outside a zoo or aquarium, and probably never will.