Nearly every morning, since I wake so early, I scurry down to the beach to watch the sunrise.
Our beach, which is called C Street, is fairly famous for surf. Because of that, there are always surfers in the free parking lot that holds no more than 20 cars, 16 of which are facing the ocean that is about 10 or 15 yards from the car.
I am amazed at the resilience of those surfers who, despite the chill or DARKNESS, take their plastic wrapped bodies into the water to catch some waves before work.
Today was different. I got to the parking lot around 5:00ish to find not one single car there, it was empty. The wave report must have been pathetic to be this abandoned and I jokingly wondered if there has been a tsunami warning. It was eerie and a little uncomfortable but I settled in. Leaving my car running for warmth and to enjoy my beloved seat heater a while longer, I put on my gratitude tapes and waited for dawn, which is breathtaking from our south facing beach. I saw one or two homeless folks walking on the boardwalk which is to be expected down there. When I was still running, I got to recognizing many of them and mostly just steered clear.
Settled in, car off, deep breathe, I am startled by a sharp rap on my window. A vagabond wanted my attention.
My reaction is not good. It never is. I am quickly panicking, breath comes short. I shake my head but he knocks again, this time shaking his arms. I turn on my car and book it out of the lot, feeling a little like I've been bit by my own dog.
I feel scared and powerless around the mentally ill, never knowing how they will react or what they will do.
I find a spot next to a broccoli field to watch the dawn and then head home disappointed, wishing my desire to be compassionate and caring could outweigh my overriding fear.
I get home early and don't feel very grounded or centered but I will try again tomorrow.
|Sunrise from the fields in Oxnard Ca|