Volumes are penned detailing the connection between stress and physical/mental health. When our body experiences stress, our brain, via some synaptic Situation Room, begins preparing for war. The more prolonged the stress, the more extensive the preparations. Once the plans are formulated, war is declared—on yourself!!! Headaches, intestinal discomfort, sleep issues all invite some type/s of substance/s abuse. The picture deteriorates rapidly.
Flying flat into the face of logic (a practice not unknown
to me), I go to the office when I am stressed. For those of you unfamiliar with
my “office” allow me to create an image. Picture a raised platform roughly ten
feet square. Half of the space is occupied by a skeletal rack which supports
six kayaks. The other half is open. This is where I position my desk chair
(Question: Can there be a desk chair if there is no desk?). The chair and I shift
periodically to retain the cover provided via a massive fig tree looming overhead.
All senses are drawn to the sea which lies a handful of meters before me.
A few weeks back, during one such therapeutic session, I became
aware of two young girls. Their ages are perhaps seven and five. I recognize
both of them as village kids. Their hands are stuffed with all variety of
treasures in preparation for their adventure at the playita. Unaware of my
presence, they climb into a beached panga, intricately arrange their treasures
across one of the benches and commence to play out some imaginary scene replete
with action and dialogue. A smile creeps across my lips. The older girl glances
up and spots me. Instead of recoiling in embarrassment at having been observed,
the two simply collect their props and relocate the drama in its entirety to my
platform. They are no more concerned with my presence than the frigate birds carving
celestial figure eights above me.
Suddenly, they break away and dash to the sea. They frolic
and squeal unabashedly as kids are meant to do. They return, shell
fragments in tow, and extend their little brown hands in my direction. The
younger one states, in Spanish, that these are treasures from the sea and that
they will provide memories of my visit to Yelapa. I am warmed by their thoughtfulness,
and alert them that I live in Yelapa. They process the information briefly then
return to the imaginary drama which earlier occupied them. Time passes, how
much is irrelevant; my new friends gather their treasures leaving the shells
for me. We bid each other “adios” as they retrace their footsteps and
disappear. The smile they gave me lingers.
Since then, the three of us convene frequently. There
is always a cheery “hola” which initiates our encounter and the parting “adios”
which concludes it. In between are countless words which communicate all experiences
since our last meeting. I understand perhaps one fourth of what they say; it is
my listening which pleases them, not any oral response. The two shell fragments
remain atop my platform. They serve as permanent props awaiting a future
episode of “imagining.” My smile is there also, just between the shells.
Sharing
is Caring---if you enjoy the blog and would like your friends to
know more about you, then click on the “share” button under the picture of me and my kayaks on your FB page. Then all your buddies will receive this too.
Commercial
Break
Summer rates are in effect. Additional discounts are
available for extended/multi-day rentals. It’s almost worth it to fly down for
the day just to rent my kayaks. Also, for all of you FB addicts, be sure to “Like”
Yelapa Visitors FB page so that you can follow current events here in the village.
Happy paddling—memo
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