08 December 2010

Starting over, for reals.

And I know, I have known all along, that milk is not a lighthouse, that a man is not an ocean, and love isn’t something that comes knocking at the door late one night making one thing into all the difference.  Love is an ocean pounding and pounding on the rocks, like Christmas tree lights blinking in a window, beckoning.  
-Sherrie Flick, "The Way You See It" 
It's been far too long to even pretend we know each other anymore.  

So let's start off fresh.  Not in a I'm deserving of fresh starts kind of way, because I am not deserving of fresh starts after abandoning you the way I have.  Let's start fresh because I've turned a new corner, I'm living in a new day, and I have no idea where I am and would like some guidance.

The truth is, I've lost everything.  I lost myself.  The cool points went out the window a long time ago, I got all twisted up in the game.  I guess the only way I can describe what happened, without actually telling you what happened, is to describe it to you this way:

You're in a kayak on an ocean.  You've always wanted to kayak, it's always been a desire at the back of your brain, but never were given the opportunity.  The opportunity arises.  You take your kayak out onto the ocean.  Kayaking becomes your life, you forget about everything else.  You slump through the non-kayaking days, counting down the hours until your next kayaking adventure.  You see things, parts of your ocean, that you never knew existed--caves and tidepools, sunsets and seals and dolphins.  Your kayak seems to set you free.  It is your world, your saving grace.
You want to take your kayak further away, for longer trips at a time.  You don't check the wear and tear on anything--not the kayak's condition, not your own condition, not the condition of the other parts of your life.  But everything is starting to unravel, and you know this, but you also want to go further, see more things with your kayak.  Your kayak is all you have.  You go further, past dark, on choppy seas, surrounded by sharks, without a life vest.  Suddenly you realize the one thing that was your saving grace has actually become your destruction.  Maybe you saw it all along, knew that something so freeing and life changing couldn't keep changing your life forever.  But you looked the other way, because the feeling of freedom seemed so much more worth it.

And that's how you find yourself, out on the open choppy seas, without warmth or comfort or food or fresh water, sharks circling you and your kayak, your kayak leaking, sinking slowly into the rich blue deep ocean.

Some people make falling in love look and sound so easy; falling in love for me, I guess, means being blinded by it's weight, it's richness that maybe was or wasn't there, and being stranded in the darkness, alone and freezing, drowning in the dark and lonely ocean.
What a bummer.


  1. Cassie you have a way with words... but it's more than that - it is what you manage to put behind the words that is so remarkable. You, my friend, are a writer. Keep at it! xoxo

    P.S. Thanks be to God for fresh starts; I've needed a million and will need a million more...

  2. This is so beautifully written. The emotion is present, and obviously raw... But so truthful.

    This is awesome.

    Good to see you back:)

  3. Every day is a new start... The only person that it is easy to fall in love with is yourself. You may percieve others making it look easy, but it never is. Perception and reality are rarly in harmony. If you have chosen a strong, true, honest, reliable Kayak, then it will protect you from the sharks and the chop and everything that now challenges you. Breath and focus, and paddle towards the sunrise of a new day, and a new start. namaste

  4. As a former California boy with surfing still in his heart I enjoy your writing. Ive been a reader for some time now, and I have to admit I love your images of the ocean. My Uncle taught me to surf when I was eleven years old. When he taught me the mechanics of surfing he taught me the art of soul surfing. The recognition of daily renewal. I have four boys and two girls and whenever they turn eleven we've made our pilgrimage from wherever we may be in the world and I teach each one the same lessons. Renewal, or beginning again, takes more courage than staying on a course that you know is not right. I've learned that there is a huge difference between being alone and being lonely. Keep searching. You'll find your answers the same way your writing has found its voice.


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