May 3, 2007
We now return you to our regularly scheduled shoreline
At the abyss, indeed.
After so many years here, if I’ve just got a couple of weeks left to call Paradise Cove home I sure intend to make the best of them. Even though I’ll be coming back to L.A. every three months or so, there’s definitely a very different feel when a place is “yours” than when you’re visiting just like everyone else. It will be odd to be a guest on a beach that has meant so much to me and that I feel I know intimately, but from the way the northern shoreline hugs my toes, I know that the new location will fill me with equal joy. When you see the photos from these fresh shores, the fit will be evident.
Today in the Cove was very windy, and the patterns that blew across the sea pushed birds and sailboats against their will. The collective dust from a too-dry year swirled in clouds off the pavement. Each gust filled the air with light brown and silt. The arid brush here should be far greener, and warns of the fragility of our oxymoronic desert life by the sea.
I sat on a favorite bench and stared out to this expanse, revisiting every inch of the coastline in front of me and 14 years of personal history contained within. Boyfriends. New chamber works. Restaurants. Rentals and landlords. Film scoring. Mountain hikes. Volunteer work. Health, mental and physical. Friendships. Each category’s memories self-divided into a “good” and “not so good” balance sheet, leaving me overflowing with emotions. I tried to make sense of the path my life has taken from a Manhattan street 45.4 years ago to this bench today. I couldn’t. And that was okay.
I’ve done my best not to be pushed against my will by the strong winds that have blown through my life. I’ve made plenty of mistakes and whenever I’ve been bright enough to recognize them, I’ve changed course. Taking responsibility for one’s happiness is no different than composing: we choose each note, one after the other, and hope for a beautiful result. If we ever got it just right, it would be a disappointment because there would be no reason to continue, no further search. It’s the imperfections that keep us striving for the next phrase and motif. Composing one’s life means to work diligently on a symphony that can always be improved and as such, will always remain unfinished. I view that as a terrific, ongoing opportunity, and something that inspires lots of forward motion. In this case, forward is due north.
ACB said,
May 3, 2007 @ 6:51 am
Here, here!! (Or is it “hear, hear?” Regardless, I am in complete agreement.)
Looking forward to seeing your new coastline, one that is very familiar to me. But, like you, I will miss the beauty of Paradise Cove. Thank you for sharing it!
Robert Weinstein said,
May 3, 2007 @ 2:09 pm
Oh Alex,
What a special moment you’ve got there!
So great to get to that moment when the curtain closes
and we can stop…reflect…feel what just happened… absorb it
before the cutain swings open for the next act.
Sounds like it served you well.
Happy trails!
warm wishes from your old digs here in NYC,
Robert
Bill Belote said,
May 3, 2007 @ 4:29 pm
What a beautiful post, and what a rich composition your life is playing! …”we choose each note, one after the other” so simple, like watching our own breath, yet so easy to lose track of. Being myself in the midst of a rather thorough life assessment, I can definitely feel the emotion in your words, and relate to the mystery of it all, somehow beyond a purely rational explanation. I’m thinking the experience of bliss and ecstasy will shed more light on what it all means. So I wish you, Charles, and everyone an abundance of joy.
Adrienne Albert said,
May 3, 2007 @ 9:02 pm
Dear Al,
How extraordinary that I chose this day to visit your blog for almost the first time. Such beautiful, melancholy thoughts, so honest and poetic, just like you. You can’t possibly imagine how much you will be missed on this stretch of the Pacific. but never fear, you will be followed wherever you go!!:)!
Love,
Adrienne
Paul H. Muller said,
May 4, 2007 @ 7:13 am
Goodbye, good luck, struck the sun and the moon
To the fisherman lost on the land.
He stands alone at the door of his home,
With his long-legged heart in his hand.
(Re-read “The Ballad of the Long-legged bait” by Dylan Thomas, if you have it handy, just for those last lines. It always makes me feel exactly as your post, a sort of sweet sorrow.)
Alex Shapiro said,
May 4, 2007 @ 11:10 am
Thank you, all, for such heartwarming comments! They are greatly appreciated!
Alex
Horst Kolo said,
May 8, 2007 @ 8:08 am
Yes – indeed, like others I loved your reflections and wish to express my admiration for the way you have expressed your thoughts over leaving this exquisite location from which I have enjoyed some many lovely, if not to say great photos. I hope that your new home will enable you to further feed us with great, visual feasts. We are hungry for more, even if they are different.
David Toub said,
May 8, 2007 @ 9:08 am
I’ve done my best not to be pushed against my will by the strong winds that have blown through my life. I’ve made plenty of mistakes and whenever I’ve been bright enough to recognize them, I’ve changed course. Taking responsibility for one’s happiness is no different than composing: we choose each note, one after the other, and hope for a beautiful result. If we ever got it just right, it would be a disappointment because there would be no reason to continue, no further search. It’s the imperfections that keep us striving for the next phrase and motif. Composing one’s life means to work diligently on a symphony that can always be improved and as such, will always remain unfinished. I view that as a terrific, ongoing opportunity, and something that inspires lots of forward motion. In this case, forward is due north.
brilliantly written. and true. Thanks!