Visiting Paradise

Visiting Paradise



Copyrighted@RobMason2011




There was something amiss on this Sunday morning and yet, I could not label it with any kind of clarity. There was nothing evidently wrong on this morning though it did not seem quite right. I had been working too much and the late hours I detested. But I also enjoyed my work and often felt useless when idle. The monthly bills had come due however, such was the same from month to month. Life was stressful at times but then again, there were more than enough moments of laughter and silliness with friends. So I was wondering why I felt so out of sorts? I did not have the answer but was fairly certain that I knew where to find it. It was time for a little trip.

I knew exactly what items to pack. A pen, notepad, camera, a few bottles of water, a peanut butter sand which and of course, my cell phone just in case. I loaded everything into my backpack and checked the tires on my mountain bike. I picked out my favourite lazy shorts, a white cut off t-shirt and decided on my blue, Bob Marley bandanna. I always felt good with this look. Wearing my sunglasses and with my eagle tattoo showing on my left fore arm, I would no doubt, be the subject of staring from a few onlookers. There were always a few who would watch me out of the corner of their eyes as to them, I presented as some one dangerous. I so enjoyed being my alter ego and always felt liberated in the anonymity that came with it. In fact I loved it! With a few details taken care of, I was ready for a return to paradise. And it had been far too long since my last visit.

It was early morning and yet the humidity in the air was already staggering. For a brief moment I contemplated the sweltering heat that I would endure on my trek back home. But I knew it would be worth it. It always was. As I picked up some speed on the mountain bike, I felt this tingling familiarity about me. "Yes, it had been too long since the last time," I thought. Traffic was light on a Sunday morning around here but not non existent. Of course, I always received a few dirty looks from some drivers who seemed to think that being mindful of a person on a bicycle was the ultimate in inconvenience. I gave no considerations to their annoying presence. I was off to my Paradise as soon as I made a stop to the local Tim Horton's. After-all, starting such a beautiful morning without a "Timmies" coffee seemed to me to be uncivilized.

Having finished my coffee I was on my way. It was a fifteen mile ride I enjoyed immensely. As I approached my favourite place I took note that there was not a soul around. That was much to my liking. It did not take long to find my favourite spot and I immediately took up temporary residence under a Weeping Willow tree. I closed my eyes and took a deep breathe. Then another. I opened my eyes and everything had changed. The branches from the Willow drooped about me and I was convinced that they would wrap around me and protect from harm. A slight breeze had them moving to and fro as the sun flickered in between their movements. It was as if the branches let in what was needed when it was needed. I could hear the rhythm of the small waves striking the break wall and it was like music to my ears. The tall grass swayed slightly in the breeze as if it had learned what we have not. The grass was not in conflict with the breeze, but simply allowed it to pass through whenever there was need. Already, there were a few sailboats and speed boats on the water as those fortunate with monetary wealth were busy enjoying the comforts of their privileged lives. I enjoyed watching the different boats go by and often took pictures with my cheap, digital camera. I noticed that one particular boat was named "Lucky Dollar." I could only wonder what interesting story and circumstance had led to such a naming of a boat. Something in my life did not seem quite right and I was beginning to realize what was wrong.

It was not long before calming thoughts were in abundance. And I was ready with my pen and notepad. Off to the west a father and son had arrived to try their hands at some fishing. I remembered this father/son, time honoured tradition very well. I stared at the little boy for sometime as he watch his Dad outfit his fishing rod with all the particulars. The memories of my childhood came cascading. And I wrote what thoughts came to me. Back on the water, the variety of boats began to look crowding. Closer to the a shore, a mother duck led a parade of smaller ones upstream to whatever end. Above, birds of many colours, shapes and sounds busied themselves as if with a purpose I was not meant to understand. A few squirrels scampered about and the tree branches continued to sway in the breeze with a low humming sound that I could believe was a dialect of its own. And I wrote whatever thoughts came to me. The minutes were moments. Those moments became memories not only preserved in my mind, but penned for all time. Suddenly, I came to realize what yearnings had me wanting to visit this place. It was paradise and for the time being, I was its sole owner.

For a few more hours, I watched, listened, and I penned whatever fleeting notions came to me on that over-easy Sunday morning. And I filled page after page. Harmony is balance. And it was that lack of balance that had me believing that something was not quite right when nothing seemed drastically wrong. Not wanting to leave, I reluctantly packed my things and prepared for the journey home. That tug on my shirt could not be ignored. Domestic chores awaited me. The domestic, robotic routine was waiting too. It was time to return to my man made, concrete world. I love this place found and I call it Paradise. And though I always feel welcomed as if two old friends rekindling their friendship, like a guest I never stay too long.