Captivated Me

The fishy scent of salty sea tickled my nostrils as I strolled down the weathered (but sturdy) Fisherman’s Wharf in Monterey, CA last weekend.  For the first time in weeks, I felt like I could breathe deeply and peacefully.  Only two hours earlier had I decided on a last-minute road trip to the coastal hotspot for a day of rejuvenation (with some time spent studying sprinkled between moments of excitement).  I was last in Monterey in the fall of 2011 when my parents visited from Minnesota, but we had little opportunity to tour the city, deciding instead to drive further south to Carmel and Big Sur.  Since that autumn visit, Monterey itself has been at the top of my to-tour list.

There’s something about the ocean that blows my mind every time I see it.  To be standing in the midst of a force so powerful invigorates, but to see the waters so calm (as was the case last weekend) soothes the soul in a “be still my heart” kind of way.  It was just what I needed to recharge that Saturday, and I spent the day walking.  Walking and observing.  Okay, okay: walking, observing, and taking pictures.  I started at the Wharf, passing slowly and deliberately by each restaurant, each boutique.  I contemplated a clam chowder bread-bowl and a slice of homemade fudge, but elected instead to continue my window shopping.  Other Monterey-goers bustling to and fro did not distract from the stunning, weathered ambiance of the dock.  It was surprisingly comforting to be one anonymous face in a crowd of strangers – obligated to nothing and no one, no e-mails to send, no phone calls to make.  Oftentimes it’s nice to fly under the radar.  From the Wharf, I made the three-quarter-mile walk to the famous Cannery Row, snapping photos and pausing to take in the panoramic bay views along the way.

After a jaunt through the pedestrian-rich Row, I proceeded to try to find a restaurant that my boss had recommended to me that morning – Compagno’s.  Apparently, this place has a phenomenal assortment of larger-than-life sandwiches, sides, and desserts (of which my boss recommended the Meatball Sandwich, Broccoli Salad, and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cake).  I found myself trudging a half-mile up what I swear was a hill on the outskirts of Monterey set on a 45-degree incline.  From the stares directed my way from cars passing by, I’d say that I looked either like I was about to faint (given how tired my legs were!) or like a hilariously lost tourist.  Probably both.  I even tried to play off my situation by calling my sister to look a little less adrift, but I’m not sure how that worked.  Either way, after about a 20 minute walk, I called of the search for Compagno’s and headed back downhill, giggling at myself the whole way.  Since I didn’t find the restaurant that day, I consider it incentive to go back to the bay soon!

It was about 4-o’clock and, not having eaten since breakfast, I stopped desperately by a Peet’s coffee shop that I had passed at one point during my journey.  Pasta salad and a nonfat espresso macchiato hit the spot, and I enjoyed each from a patio perched directly above the bay.  A chill began to accompany the previously warm breeze, so I started on the path along the shore back to my car.  More pictures were taken, and a welcome exhaustion set in from the long walk.  I wish I could have lingered at the Wharf a little longer with sunshine on my face, wind toying with my hair, and the soft bell-toll sound of ropes striking their sailboat’s mast filling my ears.  But alas, my blissful, restful day in Monterey had to end.  The long drive home gave me ample opportunity to ponder and reflect on all-things-life.

I’ve come to relish these moments of solitude, these fleeting occasions when life stands still.  They are few and far between, to be sure, but they are invaluable to the maintenance of sanity.

Times of rest have been lacking to me this past year.  I feel so constantly on the move that I dread to think about what I’ve missed in pursuit of the next adventure.  The “wheels keep on turning” in my head, so to speak, and I have yet to master the art of silencing my mind in order to truly live in the moment.  What’s curious is that, while my mind can be going a mile a minute, it doesn’t feel like I’m getting anywhere fast (unless you consider “Mental Exhaustion” a destination).  Further, in trying to think about everything – every person I want to get in touch with, every task on my to-do list, every errand I need to run – I often forget the very thing that I’m trying to figure out.  I chalk it up to a quest for perfection that I began as a little girl and have yet to accept as an illusion.  That’s right, I’m in denial.  Blissfully so, in some cases, but then it hits me.  I am imperfect.  I have weaknesses.  I am a work in progress.

Secondary to this desire for perfection is a pervasive fear that I will fail either myself or others around me.  So I often play it safe by trying to do too much and depriving myself of balance.  I over-work.  I over-think (hence the mental exhaustion referenced above).  I want to prove that I’m of value to someone, that I’m capable of something, anything.  What a terrible weight to bear.  Some of you, maybe a lot of you, know what I mean.

From these acknowledgements of my silent fears and vain attempts sprung forth a revelation.  That God doesn’t want me to be perfect.  Perfect is boring.  He wants me to be me.  Free.  Not bound by expectations.  Not stifled by fear.  Not chained by the all-go, no-quit, full-steam-ahead pace that society steps to.  I am free to set my own pace.  I am even free to stand still and rest.  To enjoy each breath He gives me instead of feeling like I hold my breath all the time.  This, my friends, is good news.  Now, I just need to have patience with myself as the Lord teaches me to live and walk in this truth.

And just in case you were wondering, I spent a grand total of zero minutes studying.  Zippo!  Well, at least my intentions were good…