pixey stick bliss

Rockport, MA happens to be one of the heralded ports of call along our summer waterway although it can prove to have both effects of elation and dread...elation in the form of onshore reinflation....elation of the customary toy store ricochet and reverse ricochet to determine the candy/trinket most worthy of the $5 and $15 respective allowance...elation for the dark mochas at my fingertips...elation to verify whether our credit card can still be set ablaze in joyful gratitude...elation in the form of Rosemarie, the harbormaster...happy to see that we maneuvered our 28' SeaRay Sundancer without upsetting the ecosystem of the inner habor's tightly woven network of lobster boats...and the reward of a hospitable and complimentary pumpout.

This years toy harvest for my daughter Tatum was a plush turquoise octopus that settled on the name Aqua...although I thought Squirt was better. She would have sold her own blood had we not remembered that any money not spend on candy could be transferred over to toys. Trevor, on the other hand would have easily spent the full $20 on candy...the more retina scortchingly sour the better. As we headed back in to the General Store for the fourth time Trevor's spirit grew. It was at this very moment that he realized the cheap plastic pacifiers would no longer soothe his soul...he was making his metamorphosis in front of my own eyes....could it be that he was actually going to SAVE his money?

As we strolled through numerous boutiques (now my turn) we landed amidst Indonesian and Nepalese textiles, woodcarvings, metalwork and singing bowls. Lingering longer than we had in any previous store Trevor reveled in his ability to make these bowls come alive as if he was gifted with a unique Shamanic ability. Upon my insistence we settled on two bowls...one in the note of E to ease the fury of flaming solar plexus' caused by treaded toes and generalized discontent when situations breach over the limit of the illusion of control and one in the note of B to eclipse the discomfort of my ear infection, its surreptitious advantages I enjoyed due to sound deadening properties applied to a wide range of bicker worthy topics onboard.

As we made our way back to "Spin" Trevor had one final purchase request - an Asian diorama under glass. He wanted to keep this semblance of calm...found inspiration in the thought of creating a meditation corner of his room...and persisted with questions relating to the benefits of meditation until he fell into slumber listening to a guided meditation on my ipod.

The following morning at 6:30 a.m. Trevor poked his head into "cozy village" the bunk area I share with my daughter and requested that we go to the end of the breakwater to meditate. Jumping on that opportunity like a frogs tongue to a fly we bouldered over the disarray of granite blocks to the red #6 beacon at the entrance to the harbor. Our legs draped over the edge of the solid stone we reviewed the previous nights beginning meditation overlooking Motif 1 and bounded over the remaining six for fear that he might turn into a pumpkin on the way up the chakra ladder...my eyes wide with disbelief that we were here (in body and mind) to begin with. Pleased with ourselves upon completion, with an impish smile Trevor pulled from his pocket a 3-pack of pixey sticks to share...the meditation-elation firmly embedded by this offering in the way a child comprehends BLISS.

So you ask "How could there be a down side to this story?" The balance to the euphoria found in Rockport heretofore mentioned as "dread" is met every year with the realization that we must cast the dock lines and power towards different waters. Once beyond the breakwater, after we relinquish our sadness in exchange for gratitude, we extend our hearts back up to the cosmos..."Thank you Universe...May we have some more?"