I’ve spent quite a bit of time the last few days staring at
the sea. In Ijmuiden, I wandered along the sandy path and stared at the sea.
Then on the hydrofoil into Amsterdam, I just stared at the canal we were
traveling over. Then today, I spent some time in Volendam staring at the sea.
I’m not sure if it was an effect of the ocean or just my own relaxed mind. So
many years I have generally subsisted on insufficient sleep with more than
sufficient things to do. One of the most relaxing things I usually do would be
to go hiking, watching cycling races, or to watch football matches. The rest of
my life is not that relaxing, but this summer has been different. I have no
official job, no classes, no theatre projects, and no research projects. I’ve
been reading some Walter Benjamin for fun, but mostly I seem to have been just
floating through the weeks. There has been planning and finding directions and
other traveling responsibilities, but that’s it. I have seen art, famous
monuments, and wandered through strange cities and let the streets branch out
in front of me. Sun breathes in my presence in these places that I have never
been. I am a stranger in a strange land, but these places feel as familiar as
so many others. People walk near me, going about their own ways – business or
pleasure. The streets are streets. The people live, love, and die. These
streets are older than the one’s I usually walk on. The streets of London,
Edinburgh, Orkney, Paris, Luzern, and Holland have all been paved and pounded
into the ground by feet, wagons, horses, and vehicles for many thousands of
years. What makes these streets different from the newer ones? What makes these
crowds different from the others I have been through. I have wandered through
lakes, gulfs, seas, and oceans of people through my life. I like to drift
through them, only hanging onto a few. I like seeing cities and moving through
the streets, a gust of wind, blowing past and enjoying it all.
But I don’t. I generally like to keep too busy to do these
things, except interludes when I can camp and hike during the summer. What
would I do if I didn’t keep busy? Would I just do this: wander? Probably. It is
nice for now to see all the things to be seen, but I miss busy-ness. I miss
having to wake up at a certain time and be places everyday. My sister and I
could sleep all day with no consequences. It was nice at first, but now I want
to be somewhere at sometime to do something useful. I am loving the pictures
and soon watching the Tour de France, but there is so little to do. I only need
to get directions, make decisions, and occasionally speak French or German.
That’s it. So, I watch the sea role in and out and think about how it is the
same sea in New Jersey, Shenzhen, Seattle, and South Africa. The same water
goes and comes with a rhythm that is not one I usually hear. My rhythm is that
of the clock and the alarm and the fast walk to campus.
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