Spielzeit!

Every August the executives of the company I work for decide to throw a big party at a local, scenic beach and they obligingly let we little people join in the fun. It is the best party of the year. The beach is fantastic. The water is blue, the sand is white-hot and there’s plenty of beach volleyball (my favorite). The company cater’s a different theme for lunch each year (during the boom, it was Lobster & shellfish) and provides ice cream cones & sandwiches, as well as water, soda and wine-coolers. I love the whole sensate experience.
I love the drive, which, on a sunny day in late- summer is a single-lane cascade along dappled tree-orchard narrows, which twist and break beside the open green of sea-flats and clapboard cluttered waterfronts. I love the permission to sweat, to be sandy, to park in a yellowgrass field, to smell like sunscreen, to stumble around in open sandals, to eat with your fingers, to waste time. I love the boardwalk down to the beach, dunes as high as a building growing stubbly hair with sea grass and doubtless hordes of ticks and no-see-ums. The water is achingly blue. The slosh-and-pull of the bubbled-surf, soul-therapy. My feat sting and blister. My skin warms under the noonday heat. I am the ghost of Summertime present. My mind allows itself to experience without evaluation; in-bodied now. Sunglasses are as far as the industrial age can ever go. Standing with the surf around one’s ankles, one humbly begins to participate in the borderland between finite and infinite where all things come to find their name. I am a Crusoe - I have no name - I am a primitive thing alive. The world is undone and re-made for new experiences. I am a Son of Adam sent to name all created life and thus begin opening up to the discovery of my own ontology. Time to play!