11:11 am Simmer

Years of habit continue to provoke me to occupation. Now however I've reached the stage where inactivity is the primary goal. It has become almost unseemly to succumb to utility of any measurable description. Instead the current objective is loosely characterized “to enjoy oneself". Absent the focus of either need or desire I find the limitless ambition of enjoyment less than helpful.  I say helpful because I have traditionally equated performance with achievement of some purpose. Clearly I have yet to advance to that ethereal atmosphere of thinking which connotes inner bliss and pure spiritual contentment. I guess I am still caught up in objective goals.

It was this motivation for accomplishment of some standard which likely prompted me this morning to turn the wheel of my bicycle from the upper blocks of Longboat Key southward towards Sarasota instead.  I felt the overwhelming need to do something different, maybe even to discover something new.  Indeed this is precisely what transpired - and in very short order. Instead of traveling over the bridge from the island to the mainland I pursued a shadowy path which first led to a small sandy shoreline along Sarasota Bay and then wound under the bridge to a larger park fronting upon the Gulf of Mexico.  Along the narrow pathway under the bridge I passed by several Mexican fishermen who, though polite, led me to believe I had encroached upon their private domain.

This prompt reward for my restive exploration hadn't arisen as early as I may have previously intimated. In fact I hadn't carved myself from the lair until almost nine thirty this morning. Such tardy awakening always succeeds to instil a sense of regret - again more evidence of the obsession with productivity.  What made the contamination more annoying was that in spite of earnest contemplation I failed to unfold any resolution.  While munching my sliced green apple I could only marvel at the imperative of allowing the steel cut oats to simmer on low heat. Some things only work with patience and time. This theme later evolved as I casually wheeled my way into Lido Beach and followed the broad white beach.

I prolonged the journey home by extending my ride northward along Longboat Club Road. The hurried passage revisited familiar haunts from last year's resort. Yet as much as I theoretically applaud the advantage of swimming in the sea I was just as content at the end of the day to position myself on a chaise longue by the pool, uninterrupted by sand and no-see-ums.