Born Into Purple

The color cast on the water yesterday evening at Coronado was less a shade of blue and more a melange of purples: lilac, heather, periwinkle, suffused over a deep eggplant… I hadn’t seen a sea like that before. It was gorgeous. The sun made its casual descent over Point Loma.

Sujantra and I were there at Coronado. He sat in his beach chair reading Kant in short spurts. I was beside him on my beach towel reading “A Room of One’s Own” in short spurts. Despite the weighty reading material, our act of reading was light. Interruptions included the occasional military aircraft overhead, a young man stopping by to ask if we had a wine opener, my excited desire to share passages from Woolf’s “Room” with Sujantra, and, finally, Sujantra’s resolve: “Well honey, I’m gonna get ready to take a dip!”

“Ah, I don’t know!” I exclaimed. “The air’s a bit chilly and the water will be cold!”

“Oh, but we’re gonna—I’m gonna feel so good strolling down the Coronado boulevard looking for some dinner after a good dip…” I watched his face assume its charming, persuasive expression. How could I say no?

No sensation compares to being neck deep in the gently rolling sea, a purple sea, with several feet of water beneath my toes, maybe 250 feet from shore; Sujantra telling me I look so beautiful in the purple water; me smiling, looking at him, the backdrop a calmly emotional, richly colorful sky, the stolid dark bulk of Point Loma, the indifferent sun skirting by.

I have become an expert at squeezing most of my life’s fun into two-day weekends. This practice is at once a real pity and a great blessing. A pity because I am only enjoying two sevenths of my waking life (and, if I’m not careful, shedding tears on a Saturday morning – as I did this weekend – over the feeling that I cannot take a real break over the weekend due to the looming pressures and deadlines waiting like a predator for Monday morning) and a blessing because the weekends are so beautiful and blissful.

I sit here writing this on a Sunday morning, and already this weekend we have created the following enjoyment:

  1. Jeevan, a baby of 1966, celebrated his birthday with us on Friday evening. I made a mediterranean meal for the friends: Jeevan, Sujantra, Ryan, Ariani, Shaman Shane, Lexi, and myself. After eating, we sat in the garden by the waterfall, under a big October moon and the glowing market lights, and we giggled and giggled and searched for conversation that would bring more giggles.
  2. Saturday morning, slept in. Sujantra lit his candle, sat up straight in his chair by the window, and breathed his way into a deep meditation. I laid there in his bed, trying to meditate myself. This is when thoughts of my 9-5 job pervaded. Before long, a psychic veil lifted, and with it my stoicism, and I finally realized how sad I feel about the job, and how frustrated I am that it invades my free time. I started to cry, left the room, went to my own space, and cried heavily.
  3. Sujantra, after his meditation, found me crying. He, in his natural tenderness, stayed present and offered space for me to feel my feelings. After the brief episode, I splashed my face, put on clothing, and persevered toward a peaceful Saturday.
  4. We walked to a favorite brunch spot. On the way we noticed Marcia and Floyd and their band playing music outside. Marcia on the sax, Floyd on the fiddle. In the 82º late morning sunshine, we stood, watched, listened for a song, and then clapped for our neighborhood friends and for the beautiful music.
  5. I ate scrumptious French toast with Labneh sauce. He ate a vegetarian sandwich. We laughed and giggled about the good music playing overhead (The Doors) and also about the Free Library book we had plucked along the way called Looking Out for # 1.
  6. Hearing The Doors reminded me that YouTube very recently showed me an amazing 10-minute interview with Jim Morrison from 1971, and I had to show it to Sujantra later (which I did). I’ve posted the clip at the bottom of this post.
  7. A few doors down from brunch was a crystal shop. We poked our heads in a) to suss out the new, local business and b) for Sujantra to purchase an accessory for his singing bowls. Sujantra discovered he knows the owner, and before long, the owner was running a singing bowl along Sujantra’s spine while playing it!
  8. Returned home, completed a few chores, then Sujantra laid on the couch while I plucked the guitar, creating chords by his instruction. Napping ensued.
  9. Renewed by our naps, we jetted off to Coronado. See passage above.
  10. We afterward found dinner at an Irish Pub & Grill. We sat outside, ate, drank a Harp and a chardonnay, and watched beautiful Coronado enjoy its Saturday evening.
  11. At home, late evening, we settled in for a movie. It was Sujantra’s turn, and he selected The Court Jester from 1955. Very fun, sweet, and light.
  12. Sunday morning, Sujantra kissed me goodbye prior to leaving for tennis.

Sundays are my day of solitude. We refer to them as my “Solitude Sundays.” It’s now past noon this Sunday and my to-do list is long and waiting. But, to-do list or not, magical things happen in solitude. Reflection happens.

Today’s reflection: I am not immune to the darkness in the air and the quicksand issues of our world today: the election, the pandemic, the climate disaster, the violence enacted by humans against other humans, the draining corporate environment I find myself in Monday through Friday.

Yet, within the safe, light-filled container of my Sunday, I feel and know my own personal themes… My centeredness, my authenticity, and my self expression need not be foreign nor hidden amid a world in constant motion. I give myself permission to appear on the scene as me, just me. Just one, peaceful swimmer in a gorgeous, purple sea. My lover close by.

Jim says it well, too.



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