Spotting the fish in the waves

Look closely at the photo. Toward the right in the wave are dozens of fish. I had no idea that you could hunt for fish in the waves.

I only became a fan of the ocean, especially the NC coast, in the last 10 years. Growing up, I spent most vacations in the mountains.

A week ago, a friend showed me how to spot the fish as the waves crested. And not all the waves are laced with fish. Waves have to be either medium or large in size.

It was a very mild day at Oak Island so there were not that many medium waves. I must have snapped 20 photos in order to get just one that captured the fish.

From now on, when I'm at the beach, I'll pay more attention to the waves.

We finally got rain after many days without. You know what I missed? Seeing the patterns that the rain makes.

I have to hunt for the patterns -- rain drops bending the individual leaves on the Bradford Pear; drops hitting the puddle of water, spreading circles that disappear just as other circles form; the lite sheen of the asphalt showing its coating intead of the individual drops.

Doing Nothing

What do people do when they don’t do anything? Is doing nothing really doing something?

Angela and I were discussing our ideas about “doing nothing” while we sat at a Barnes & Noble having tea. For the most part, we ignored the others around us. I was intrigued with the slim bald man at an adjacent table who read a book and took notes. I wanted to know what book he was reading, but I promised myself that I would concentrate on what Angela was saying.

Angela’s view – “For me, doing nothing is doing something outside of my daily routine. For example, I work in my (basement) studio for five hours. I go upstairs. I don’t know what to do. For me that is ‘doing nothing’ time. So I start thinking about how ‘to do nothing.’ I cook or I read. I need to do something outside of my realm of expectations. I can't do ‘nothing’. I have to do something. No down time."

Healan’s view – “It’s hard to ‘do nothing’ because my brain will not shut down. Thoughts cascade through my mind and to shut them off would be to stifle ideas that are waiting to be born.”

My attention wandered to the bald man who shifted the book slightly. Now I could read the word “Intelligence…” in the title. Before I could look away, he looked up and stared past me. I could see his facial muscles relax. His eyes appeared to glaze over and unfocus. It looked liked the perfect time to ask him the question.

“What do you do when you do nothing?”

“I day dream,” he said. Then he told us that he was just ending a 27-year marriage and was trying to start over.

Angela and I scrambled to keep the conversation focused on the problem of “doing nothing.” The man sighed at our apparent disinterest in his personal situation. He repeated his view that day dreaming was synonymous with “doing nothing.” He returned to his book and flipped to another page.

Back to the cocoon of our dialogue, Angela and I continued our discussion about “nothing.” Finally Angela got a good working definition. “You need to allow yourself to not worry about anything,” she said. “You are just there. Being just there is doing ‘nothing.’”

Mirror, mirror on the wall, part 2

Angela is still evaluating the effects of a woman looking in the mirror and seeing someone who is older and not familiar. “It’s like a blink,” she says. “You close your eyes and when you open them, you are a different person. You have your life history in that blink.”

The question then becomes, “What do you do next?” I suppose I am one of those women who deny seeing wrinkles, age spots and flabby neck skin. I can’t do anything about those problems so why worry about them?

Angela thinks more deeply than I do. She sees the need to catch up, to merge her mental vision of herself with the physical version she sees in the mirror. “When you come to terms with what you see,” she asks, “does it depress you or does it propel you to move forward because time is getting short?”

I don’t like to think about what she is saying. However, I find myself becoming more productive and getting my projects done faster. Maybe I do feel the sense of urgency that she is feels. I just don’t want to think about it.

Mirror, mirror on the wall

My friend Angela is reading "Water For Elephants" for her book club. She pointed out a passage where the narrator describes how different he looks in the mirror now that he is an old man in his 90s than when he was so much younger.

Angela said she felt the same thing -- a combination of anger, sadness, a questioning of how it had happened and why. She said she felt younger and different on the inside. She was not like the reflection in the mirror. I'll never forget reading a quote from Barbara Bush when she was first lady, and she said something like when she looked in the mirror, she saw a 16-year-old girl getting ready to play tennis, not the reflection shining back at her.

Angela sees the discrepancy between the inner vision of herself and her reflection as an older woman, and she doesn't like it. When I look in the mirror, I see the white thick hairs that sprouted overnight on my upper lip. I don't like what I see, but I don't think about how I've changed physically. I deal with what my reflection shows me.

I understand Angela's angst. I, too, am growing old, and I fight it. Despite our perceptions of ourselves, we both deal with the accumulation of years in the same way -- trying new things and new ways of doing some of our tried and true methods, embracing technology as finances permit, supporting old friends, seeking new ones, and reading and thinking.

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