Monday Moanings - January 26, 2015

A Fugue of Nothing. A Storm of Imagination



So here I am sitting at the top of the last week of January, staring down at a raging sea of things not done, which ought to have been done this month.What to do? Voices from the sea of tasks erupt in a cacophony of pleas.

"Pick me!"
"No, I'm the most urgent. Pick me!"
"But I'm the most important!"
"I'm the oldest!"
"I'm the newest!"
"I'm the most neglected!"
"I'm the best!"

And it all just ends up being so much noise in my head, the kind of disturbance that induces profound paralysis. Nothing gets started. Nothing gets worked on. Nothing gets done. Nothing gets to experience the satisfactory flourish of being crossed off the list. All are lost in this fugue of nothing. Is there anything that might rescue me from despair?








Why yes, as a matter of fact there is. As long as nothing significant is going to get done today, I might as well spend the time in my imagination, exploring and playing in this fertile field. So, sans constraints of any kind, where would I like to be today; what would I like to be doing?

I'd like to be at the beach. Not the Caribbean resort kind of beach, though that does have its charm, but rather the beach of my childhood, the one on the southern tip of Long Island, the one at Breezy Point. The place where on a clear day I could see the Jersey Highlands, the Verrazano Bridge, the Manhattan skyline and even pick out the Empire State Building. The beach of idyllic summers, sand, sea, salt air, clams on the half shell, and a few glorious storms of epic proportions.










And that's why I'd like to be there today - a storm, a "Massive Northeast Blizzard" is bearing down on New York City. The intrepid storm watcher/chaser in me would love to be there, right in the thick of it, in that cottage at the beach. Sadly the cottage is no more, having been gutted by fire in the wake of Hurricane Sandy in November 2012, but that's where my imagination comes to the rescue...

Outside the storm rages but inside we're sitting at the dining table sipping hot tea and munching on cinnamon toast. The wind howls, the windows shake, the rafters moan. From time to time Dad gets up to tap the barometer, look out the porch windows and maybe even crack open the door to sniff the air...

It's wild. It's exciting. It's fun! And I am so there!

©2015 April Hoeller