Silly Captive Words: California

Do you have moments when you are content to be in a supine position? Your back is on the floor, Norah Jones sets the ambiance, and you could simply exist in limbo for hours. I think it's a blessing to catch these moments. They contain a therapeutic element; a means of catharsis. Dive in deeper with me. Your back isn't just on the floor, it's on the sand. Norah Jones may be playing, but if she is it's only a small tune in the back of your mind. The real music comes from the gulls and the waves and the people. The gulls cry out in a weary melody. The waves are the beat. The people offer up the lyrics not so much in words as in the ever present rumble of humanity. It's a good noise.
Maybe you have your favorite novel in hand. But remember, for every word on the page there are a thousand pictures all around you and every picture is worth a thousand words. These words aren't held captive, either. No amount of cleverness could ever capture them. Not even the most skilled author could chain these words to a page, because these words are wild. They were never meant to be tamed. They are embodied in the jellyfish on the beach, the shell in the little girls hand, the sand castle the boy and his dad made from wet sand, driftwood, and seaweed. Who are you to read silly captive words in this singular moment full of the wild words?
 The waves are full of stories better than anything you brought along. Listen to them. One has a tale of sadness. The fisherman down the way lost his boat. He couldn't make the payments. But the next wave is playful. She and the breeze have become friends. The breeze picks up a sun hat lying on an empty chair. He tosses it into the waiting hands of the wave who pushes it about until the elegant lady it belongs to rescues it. She has to get wet and though she huffs about it she really enjoyed the moment of childlike innocence as the wave washed around her, the hat in tow. The wave never intended to keep it anyway. She just wanted to play.
The sun falls from the sky much faster than any of the kids would like, but he is tired. He had so many hearts to warm and souls to rescue from the darkness. All he has strength for is one last hour of pink and orange draped across white clouds and then he sinks into the sea for a much needed nap.
Each moment has a thousand pictures and each picture is worth a thousand words. Don't miss the wild words because your mind is too engrossed in the silly captive ones. There will be time for those when the sun is sleeping, I reckon.