Keeper of the Dam

     I’m trying to decide if it is the power of Puerto Escondido that is making me feel like life is possible again, or if it is simply that we have all been shut off from the daily activities we are so used to, that mere contact with humans at bars, restaurants, parties, community activities, and in-person dates, has brought a part of me back from a deep coma that we have all been put into for the past year. Since I am a little more familiar with my past than most, I will say that I have not had a sense of community and eagerness to make friends and meet people, like I do now, than I have in nearly 10 years. Something is awakening within me while I roam the streets of Puerto, while I swim in the oceans, and while I run amok in the streets looking for the next best drink/food/date. Moving here - even if it is so temporary - has had the exact effect I was looking for: freedom to be whoever it is I want to be.       I’ve begun to find a sense of communit...

     Sand is only sand when it isn’t wet. When it’s wet: muck. Have you noticed that? We frolic in the plushy forgiveness that volleyball courts and cabanas call home, but find ourselves annoyed when we try to scrape and rinse off the caked-on plaster it can become. It gets into places we don’t want, and it collects in the sheets and carpets that we go home to luxuriate in. So why do we flock? For the water, perhaps. For the breeze off the shore. The minerals in the sea, and the vistas that ensconse it’s borders. The communal feeling of gaiety; that intoxicating neuron-firing chemical that catches like a cold, but through a smile instead of a sneeze.      And what becomes of it all when the clouds roll in and the sun disappears? I always thought the darker side of the beach - to balance out the bright shining part - was the nighttime. But perhaps it is the stormy days, those where the fog settles in and makes the water too cold for swimming, and the air too...