San Juan Island!

I've been craving this for months and here I am...sitting on a beach log with my back to the ocean and looking at ducks (mallards and buffleheads) floating on a small lagoon. Their invisible feet propelling them effortlessly makes it look like they are being blown randomly by the cold wind that is biting my neck. Driftwood all along the beach sticks up out of the sand at random angles like long forgotten tombstones shining white in the harsh low angle of sunlight. A monstrous blue heron circles silently overhead before alighting on a fir. I'm not sure if "alight" is the right word as the tree branch bends precariously under its weight. A big yellow cloud of pollen puffs off in the breeze under the giant bird. It is spring here and I had forgotten the amount of pollen a single fir can generate. The pollen reminds me it is spring. The sun is still low in the horizon even though it's noon, and the wind keeps nipping at my exposed skin. But in this little sheltered area the sunlight feels good on my face. Walking earlier along the path through the giant trees I saw no one. I heard only the sounds of birds and wind in the trees and the small wavelets licking the shore. What made the tears come was the smell. I hadn't expected the power of the smell of the pine trees. I hadn't missed that smell at all as the odors of Asia can be overwhelming. The heavy wet decaying smells of the jungle, or the hot smokey stench of all the roasting meat-stick vendors, or the ever-present funk of open sewers. The humidity of SE Asia made the air feel used , like I was breathing someone else's sigh. The halitosis of hundreds of millions of people was at first oppressive but I soon acclimated and forgot the subtle and fresh scent of a cold pine forest after a cleansing rain. Even though the wet earth smelled of mushrooms and ferns and moldy wood it was the fresh scent of nature... and things occurring as they should. There were no tuk-tuks fouling the air or clouds of diesel billowing from tail-pipes. As I wandered the path it led to the shore and the smell of the sea mixed with the pines and I finally felt home for the first time.
At home for the first time...both in my own skin and on this island. I'd walked this path many times before but never as this man at this time in his life. I walked it alone and enjoyed it more than if anyone were with me. I have been here for 5 days now and haven't called anyone or seen any friends...only family members. I'm still in a state of transition and being alone with James is a thing I have never been comfortable with until now. I'd always look for someone to spend my time with in the past. I'd try to plan my day around who I was with or what I was doing next. Even when walking on a trail I would be thinking about what the next thing on my days agenda would be. I'd hurry through the walk to get it done or over with and check it off my list so the next thing could be done. It was as if my entire life was a thing to be lived after I was done doing the thing I was now doing! The harder I ran looking for the next thing to do, the less attention I gave doing the present activity. Sure I had a busy life and lots of things going on but I never really enjoyed those things. I've grown up a bit. I need to slow down...not for my body and not for lack of energy, but for lack of joy. Do I get some prize at the end of this life for being busy? The prize comes now by enjoying this precious moment. I think spending 6 to 8 hours a day pedalling, always pedalling, doing the same thing even in different places and with different amazing experiences broke me of the "what's next" habit. Even though I constantly still wonder "what's next" in my life regarding career and ways to make a living, it's different. I can spend time alone now with James and actually like my company and not have to wonder about the next minutes or hours...they will, no doubt, lead to the next career path no matter how much I stress about it.