March 2022

A boy no more than four feet tall splashes in the shallow waves. He is laughing and playing and experiencing the world with the joy that only a child can. His father stands on the shore, feet soaking in the water, smiling. The dream. Every person and every wave and every grain of sand is glowing in the morning light. I open my camera and take a picture of them. It is so humanly pure and inescapably beautiful.

I sit in the sand, headphones in my ears, arms wrapped around my knees.  Listening to whatever I thought was pretty enough to soundtrack the moment. Only taking out the headphones for minutes at a time to hear the waves crash and laughter and soak in all this raw human joy that doesn’t exist in a hospital. Around me there are people sipping coffee, couples holding hands, a group of teenage girls taking pictures and everyone is with someone — then there’s me. Alone. Why am I here. Fresh off a twenty-four hour call shift, no meaningful friendships, no serious romantic interest, no nothing. Just me: a lost boy. 

But here, in the morning light, I can see the changes showing. I feel something and I don’t know if it’s happiness or gratitude or some other colorful emotion. But seeing people happy, enjoying this moment; it makes me happy. As I feel the beach breeze whisper through my hair and I feel light. So light that that a good gust of wind might sweep me up and blow me down the beach. Like an indescribable heaviness is just, gone. 

The sun climbs higher and higher and it genuinely feels like a new day, unlike all the others. I go into the city and find a cozy little cafe and have a omelette with an americano. I don’t scroll through Instagram or reddit. I just sit there and drink my coffee and I focus and think and feel. I feel infected by this urge I haven’t felt since I was like twenty-three. The feeling that some unknown possibility exists in life. An energy. I want to do everything. I close out my check and I go to the gym to lift weights. At the gym I grind away at my joints, move heavy things until blood vessels are popping out of every bodily surface, until I feel like I want to just lie on the floor and die. Bury my face in the fountain like a zoo animal at a water trough. Stumble to my car and drive to my apartment. 

Get into the sauna and crank it to the max setting – 194 degrees Fahrenheit. Sit there with yoga posture and just let myself dissolve into nothing. Until the sweat drips off my nose. Belly button filled with perspiration. I love it. I start to do planks, push-ups and dips. Sweat is pouring from my body like I’d just stepped out of a swimming pool. I’m out of breath and every survival instinct embedded in my DNA from my ancestors before me is screaming – stop and get out now, you effing moron. But I fight it and fighting it makes me feel good. My body feels like it’s going to collapse but I mentally flex and say I’m fine. Pace around in circles on the wooden sauna floors. I could lie down and just fall asleep. It would be easy. No one is here and no one’s checking on me. I’d pass out and just drift off. But I can’t do that. This feeling floods my body with catecholamines and tells me to keep fighting. Control your breaths. Focus. Twenty, thirty, forty minutes pass and I am a sopping wet mess of flesh. At some point I realize my brain isn’t making real thoughts. I’m so close to passing out that I’m just walking in circles grunting like a fucking ape. My thoughts are unintelligible. I’m thinking weird things. I realize I’m confused and I realize it’s time; I push through the sauna door and feel the sweet kiss of air conditioning and slurp water like a dog on a summer day. 

And when I catch my breath and regain consciousness my entire body tingles with joy and I feel so incredibly blessed and relieved and euphoric. I think about anything I was stressed about and start audibly laughing out loud. A renewed sense of vitality flows into my body like fluids through an IV. I frolic up to my apartment and run the shower on cold. I step in and feel shockwaves reverberate through every nerve down to my toes. 

Maybe it’s some feeling of conquer, of winning. After feeling like you’ve lost so much, it feels good to defeat something; I don’t know. I feel in complete control of my life. 

Mother Nature was calling. So I bring myself to her and drive to the beach. Set up my beach towel, throw off my shirt and sandals and run into the ocean. Swim out and swim and then just… float. Swim around for a bit then swim back to shore. Collapse on my towel. Open up my book, the first non-medical book I’ve read in years, and laugh to myself. I haven’t felt this much joy with my own thoughts in years. I just read and smile and feel so goddamn happy that I’m alive and there are people out there who love me. Who I love. Nothing else matters. 

I put my book back down and walk out into the ocean. Until it’s deep enough that I can dive in and submerge my body. Swim underwater for a bit. Resurface. Spit the salt water out of my mouth. Wipe my eyes. Tread water. Feel the warmth of the sun on my face and look at the picturesque blue sky. Gaze at the people laughing and the children splashing and the guys throwing a football and the couple holding hands walking along the shore with their feet in the water.

A child builds a sandcastle. A mother takes a picture of her family. Understand that I am everything and I am nothing. A riptide or one of mother nature’s glorious beasts in this endless abyss could take me at any moment. I am insignificant — powerless. It’s beautiful.

I am just here to bring joy to other people’s lives and enjoy this experience. 

There is nothing else.