No one wanted to go to the beach with me. So it was to be more-or-less two-weeks of bohemian solitude there at Bethany Beach, Delaware. (You know, “Delaware,” The Bumbler-in-Chief’s adopted home state.) My youngest sister has a comfy beach house there and she had offered to let me use it.
Throughout my life, most of my travels have been solitary ventures. So nothing new there. Yet lately there is a sense of doom in the air that's coloring many souls, mine included. Thus, I thought some alone time for soul-searching was quite in order and would, in fact, be therapeutic.
When the day dawned for me to leave I was packing my car in the wee hours. I had to make one more trip inside the house to fetch the last of my things when I somehow twisted my right foot. It was the weirdest thing. Out of nowhere, this tremendous pain shot up from that foot. It was all I could do to walk. But by putting my weight mostly on the back ball of my right foot I was able to hobble along. Undaunted, and determined to get to sun, sand and surf, I limped into the house, grabbed the last of my stuff, then went back to my car, got in, and drove away. But some background information is in order.
In the preceding months I finally realized a 17-year desire to erect a shed on my property. It was mainly so I could have a place to put my big, dual-blade, walk-behind lawn mower. But, just before I had finished the shed, my lawn mower had broken down. <= Murphy's Law. I tried to fix it but couldn't and had to drop it off at a repair shop.
So, by the time I left for the beach my one-acre lawn was turning into a jungle. As fate would have it, on my way to the beach I stopped to visit at that same sister's farm on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. Wouldn't you know, without my brother-in-law even knowing about my lawn being uncut for over a month he offered me his old lawn mower. Fate intervenes! I was quite thankful and told him I would pick it up on my way back from the beach. (It would fit nicely into the rear of my trusty old '95 Honda Accord station wagon.)
Anyway, I got to the beach and was having a fine time. But at the half-way point I thought, what the heck, I think I'll head back home, pick up my brother-in-law's mower along the way, go mow my lawn, and then come back to the beach. My right foot still bothered me. But, after a week of being immersed in salt water and hot sand, it was improving enough that I thought I could manage this weird task on behalf of my family.
On Sunday t about 7:30 in the morning I arrived back and began mowing my lawn. It took me 4½ hours because the mower was so small and the grass so high. But as I was limping along, finishing the mowing, the mower blade picked up a rock and creamed the hell out of my left foot. At that point I could hardly walk.
Undeterred, I got up the next morning at 3:00 AM, schlumped into my old Honda, and returned to the beach. (I was back in time to limp across the sand for my daily sunrise swim at 5:45 AM.)
But a curious thought began forming in my mind. Because each foot had gotten injured when it did, I wondered whether these mishaps were some sort of message for me to "stay put." The more I dwelt upon this, the more a premonition began forming in my mind that I should cut my vacation short, pack it up, and return home. In fact, I actually decided that that's what I was going to do. But...
After further cogitation I decided to stay. There is something magical about lingering there where land meets the water and the salty air; it’s a place that stimulates body, mind and soul. After all, I rationalized, maybe it was meant as a message for me to "stay put," but to stay put at the beach. I love being at the beach and I'm glad I stayed.
Perhaps herein lies a moral applicable to the greater soul-searching now going on in the nation and the world as relative chaos and darkness is descending upon us. All is not necessarily gloom and doom; rather, it depends upon how we interpret events. The gut feeling I have is that this world-wide communist takeover attempt in the guise of a "pandemic," while frightening, can very well signal the final death rattle of the old, corrupt world falling away. In its place will rise a new, blessed era spawned by a revolution of soul, a fresh Aquarian consciousness, and a love-crowned world wherein We the People finally welcome Jesus as our King. (And if you don't know what I'm talking about there then go ask Andrew Torba.)
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