Yes, I like Piña Coladas...
yes i like piña coladas, and gettin’ caught in the rain. i love the feel of the ocean and the taste of champagne. and oh god making love at midnight? in the dunes of the cape? i will, gladly, gladly, go with you and escape….
sounds nice doesn’t it. the thing is escape to what? and what good does escape really actually do? brief escapes are nice don’t get me wrong, and necessary, but the idea of escape i think is borne out of the need to escape. isn't it? the need to escape based on what? the trained monotony of our brains, of our days? ok, i'll own it, of my day?
i love my days, i do, for the most part, i love my days. and i love my life, i do, for the most part, i love my life. but there are some mornings, usually mondays, where it all just feels like a little too much of the same thing, like all the time.
didn’t i just do this? like only seven days ago? this. same. exact. thing? didn’t i hit the snooze button at 6:45a.m. praying it wouldn’t make me late to the gym because no matter how early i go to bed, it’s never quite enough sleep. and didn’t i just make this same exact smoothie and sip this same exact coffee as i turned onto the same exact beverly hills street i turn onto five days a week for the last four years.
and yes, the gym is awesome every time and eventually i get back into the bed i never wanted to leave. and yes, not all of my day was familiar and monotonous, but a lot of it was and though i may not have to rise as early tomorrow, i stayed up too late again, and it will still not be quite enough sleep. and the cats curl up and i think, just as i did the night before, i wonder when my man will get here, if he gets here.
and for a moment, i care and a sadness hits. and then i remember, i am whole and complete and if it is in fact for the highest good, he will find me and he will see me and he will love me and he will hold me. provided of course, i am shining bright and true in all that i do. and provided of course, that i put myself in the game...
this is usually when i return to the idea of escape because sometimes the sadness remains and sometimes there are days, and today is definitely one of them, where i feel too tired to shine so bright and so true. and too bedraggled to put myself in the game. and escaping sounds easier (though it's often not), and like a much more adventurous option. (and yes, sometimes staying put can be way more adventurous, but go with me here...)
escaping like i did just 48 hours ago to the pool in the desert, escaping for a year, perhaps to mexico, to rome, to paris, to australia. escaping for a week perhaps to the quiet and peaceful streets of my new york city hometown. escaping for a night perhaps into the arms of any man, even if he’s not really there. these are the escapes i think about.
however, don’t those things take me away from myself? not all of them to be sure, but some of them? some of the time? and so i begin to question, maybe some escape is good, with the right intention. some escape will invariable take us away from ourselves but the only reason we are doing it, really inspired to do it in the first place, is because we have gotten so far off the beaten path of ourselves that we need to get back. we need to get away to return.
and doesn’t the journey somehow always give us the opt-in to return to the awareness of the awesomeness we are? if not instantly eventually? i've never jumped off a bridge with a bungee or out of a plane with a parachute but i imagine one is taken right there with that kind of adventure, with that kind of escape.
and yes, there may be unpleasant stops on this path but the truth is, there always are, and they exist on every path, and they are often the very most important stops to take. they are often the very most important learning lessons of our lives. so maybe it’s the best bet to accept wherever we are at any given moment, turn up the music, find and more importantly honor the escape, even if it's just to the bathroom to sit and breathe on a particularly frustrating day.
so in my mind or in real time, the desert feeds me. the beaches of mexico, the cobblestone streets of rome, the golden dipped anything and everything in paris, feed me. amsterdam avenue, in a cab, catching all the green lights up the avenue, feeds me. somehow imagining a man’s arms around me feeds me. even if, especially if, its just to lead me back to remembering that while a man’s arms have been, would be and will be once again, lovely, my arms, my arms are always there.
and my arms are strong and soft and long. and my arms embrace me and remind me that wherever i go, there i am, escaped or rooted. equally important experiences.
so escape then becomes something exciting and always possible. escape becomes the reminder that i have drifted away, for a moment, from who i really am. and in it there lies the golden opportunity to come back to center, to find my true north at all costs. an escape to the core of my being, my heart, my soul, with breath, with water, with candles and incense. orwith margaritas, champagne and netflix. with skin to skin contact and eye to eye, of course.
but is it really an escape? was i ever really gone? or did i just forget? is escape just an illusion of my sweet ego trying to figure out the un-figure-outable things?
rooted in the illusion of escape then which when planned well with the perfect amount of spontaneity, will always result in a return to me, i move forward and welcome this forgetting. and then i welcome the remembrance of who i truly am. i welcome this return to the inherent loving nature of my soul, of my me-ness, the inherent loving creative expanded beautiful nature that extends through these arms, that's never not in them, these arms. my arms, these soft, strong, wise arms which remind me...
...that drinking piña coladas and gettin’ caught in the rain doesn’t have to be an escape, unless i want it to be. that the feel of the ocean is always available, singing to me, calling to me, waiting for me to feel its sweet wet embrace. that i can like the taste of champagne with or without the tasting of it. it’s up to me to choose where and when and what kind of escape i want to have.
and that making love at midnight is always on the table. making love to me, making love to him, making love to the world, to my life, to this sweet boring amazing adventurous life i get to live. i can do that every night at midnight. though i will probably be asleep, it's ok. it's all an illusion anyway. so i'll turn up the music in my dreams, taste the piña colada and feel the wet of the rain. and it will still be so good, i promise...
here's to a great, great escape.....
addendum: this morning that same coffee i get every morning graced my mouth like a miracle. that same beverly hills street i have turned right on five days a week for the past four years was so green and alive and beautiful. it was as if my eyes were fresh and everything old was new again, and exciting and adventurous. it was beautiful. maybe, just maybe, the key is in the acknowledgement of wanting the escape and then the escape becomes every moment. to escape into the precious present, the here and now, the next most beautiful thing i see, i think, i feel.... these are the escapes i want to take from now on, forever and ever amen