Inspiration....

There is a story in me I’ve been meaning to share with you, for quite some time, really...

However, wishing it to be in the form of a novel, I found myself waiting for the right time and circumstances to give shape to a narrative that would do this story justice. This, of course, if we were to examine my case, using a magnifying bullshit-free lens, ought to be indicative of a strong tendency toward procrastination and irresponsibility.

Irresponsibility, such a strong word, and a bit harsh might you say, wishing perhaps to come to my defense. Unfortunately, it is a pretty valid one, when I choose to wait for the right time knowing that there is and never will be a guaranty that tomorrow, let alone a tomorrow with the right circum., shall come. Just like you, I know all too well that I should never put off what I want/have/should/ought to do today/now for tomorrow/later. As much as we would like it to be otherwise, the future is nothing but an idea.

Thus, and without further ado, or perhaps because the time has come for me to let go of this story, I’ll begin as one should -from the beginning…

There is a story in I’ve been meaning to share with you. It is a story that is linked to a dream, a recurring dream I first entered over two decades ago, on a day I was supposed to die. It was a beautiful December day, the third one on a trip I had taken with a number of surfing friends to Taghazout and its neighboring beaches. The swell had been too small on that day for most spots, so a couple of buddies and I decided to head to Tamri, which is about 1 hour by bus.

Sure enough, Tamri was delivering that day. But, somehow, what was supposed to be a simple get in, have fun, and get out, turned out to be a whole different adventure, as fifteen minutes after paddling in, I noticed that I was being pulled by a insanely strong rip current, and, that I was alone. All my friends had somehow changed their minds and gone back to the beach, which was no longer an option, as the beach was already receding in the distance. Giving it my best, I paddled in, hoping to get past the current area, but that wasn’t an option.

Exhausted, I stopped paddling and sat on my board, to my right sets were coming, bigger and bigger, to my left, and where the beach had once been, was a vertiginous cliff, against which all waves were breaking –it was high tide. The current was still pulling, and it was taking me toward a jutting out, pretty ugly looking section of the cliff. Sitting, I realized that I had no control over what was to happen to me here. I could no longer fight to stay alive. So I surrendered. I relaxed and began paddling toward the cliff, toward death.

Truly, I was supposed to die, but I guess I was very lucky that day. I was giving another chance. Perhaps, and if you have room for such a thing as a guardian angel/spirit in your belief system, I’d say that mine were busy that day, and that they really would have to love me a great deal to keep on hanging around for me, cause I have to admit that, for as long as I can remember, I haven’t made it easy for them –not the slightest.

Thus, on a beautiful December day, I ended up lying on my back at the edge of a cliff, facing a magnificent ocean, lacerated, bleeding, unable to walk, out of breath, but alive, and it was there that I opened my eyes to find myself in a place unlike anything I’d ever seen before.

To be continued…