Читать книгу Treasure of the Mind - J. Michaels - Страница 12

I had never been to Carlsbad. In fact, the only Carlsbad I had ever heard of was in New Mexico. As the United Airbus skimmed over the top of downtown skyscrapers and touched down on the runway in gorgeous San Diego, I couldn’t help thinking about what kind of man could have had such an impact on a person I considered to be wise beyond his years and circumstance. I guess I would soon find out.

Carlsbad, as it turns out, is a beautiful coastal village right on historic Highway 101, about thirty miles north of San Diego. As I exited Interstate 5 and steered towards the ocean, the peace and beauty of the place somehow soothed my troubled mind and made me feel oddly at home. I was starting to understand why Wayne spoke so affectionately about this place. But if it was as special as it appeared, why had he come back to Colorado?

As I turned onto the 101, I was almost overwhelmed by the brilliant sun, the cool ocean breezes, the breaking waves, and all the happy people walking around. Outside of the usual crowd events, I had never seen so many people outside before and they all seemed to be very pleased with where they were. This place was already starting to pierce that heart armor Wayne had accused me of having and I had a vague sense of the possibility of healing.

The Carlsbad Inn is an older hotel located about a block from the ocean. It lacks the business feel of a Marriott or the touristy trappings of the stereotypical Sea Breeze type of lodging. It holds the same charm as the town itself, unpretentious in a way unlike how most people think of southern California. Wayne had recommended the Inn and it fit him, a quality place with grace and style but not conscious of it; a relaxed, easy-going lodge that fit perfectly into its surreal like environment. I parked the rental car in front of the hotel right across the street from a quaint little coffee shop and removed my lone suitcase from the trunk. I didn’t plan on staying long but I felt I owed it to Wayne to see what this Solomon guy was all about. Little did I know what I was about to get myself into.

After unpacking and getting settled in my room, I decided to take a walk along the beach. It was a weekday in September so the beach wouldn’t be as crowded and I needed to clear my mind of all the thoughts that had been racing through it for the past few days. Carlsbad has a pedestrian seawall that runs parallel to the beach and so I started my walk there. As I passed people going in the opposite direction, I was surprised by the number of people who smiled and openly greeted me. This place and these people definitely did not fit the stereotype of the southern Californians I had been warned about. One older guy in particular made an impression as he passed. The openness of his smile reminded me of Wayne’s and I could have sworn that he spoke my name as part of his passing greeting to me. I looked back at him only to see him doing the same. Oh well, maybe I was becoming attractive to other men. Grace always said she thought I had gay in me. I call it balance but denial runs deep, so who knows?

After walking on the seawall and sitting on the beach for a couple of hours, I headed back to the Inn. In that short time span, I had seen pelicans performing vertical dives for food, surfers carving waves, and a multitude of other sensory impressions, some in very small bikinis. I was relaxed but suddenly very tired. Maybe a short nap would help. It had been a long time since I slept for more than an hour or two at a time. The last thing I remember before dozing off was a cool breeze wafting over me and the clock clicking over to 3:33pm.

The sun streaming through my window woke me and the bedside clock informed me that I had slept almost fourteen hours! I had slept more in the last day than I had during the previous week combined. I was beginning to like this place more all the time. On the other hand, it could have been a simple case of fatigue and exhaustion overcoming and shutting me down. Either way, it sure felt good to feel rested again. For the first time in awhile I actually wanted to get out of bed. I seemed to remember a little coffee shop nearby and I could sure use some caffeine to clear up my sleep hangover. After an uncharacteristically extended shower (I was usually a get in and get out kind of guy), I threw on some shorts, a t-shirt, and my recently purchased, beach-standard flip-flops.

The coffee shop was already filling up and it was just past 7am. It was truly another beautiful day in paradise, an aphorism I had already heard twice since arriving. The hand painted sign above the open door read Café Elyssa and as I walked in, the smell of freshly baked pastries and coffee filled the air. One small table in the corner set opposite a counter and display case for the pastries. Outside, bordering the sidewalk and facing the ocean, was another five or six tables and two fire pits with seating for another five or six at each. I thought about grabbing a seat at one of the communal fire pits but hesitated, knowing I wasn’t ready to socialize with strangers no matter how friendly they were. Instead, I paid for my coffee and decided to take a small table with two chairs back in the corner. I arrived there at exactly the same time as an older white haired gentleman only to realize that it was the same guy I saw on the seawall yesterday! I offered the table to him and he responded by gesturing for me to sit also. My first instinct was to politely decline and just take my coffee and go but there was something about this guy that intrigued me.

As I set my coffee down and pulled out my chair, he said, “How are you Michael? It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Heaven’s aid comes in varied forms

A book, a dream, a vision

But the hand of God comes mainly extended

Attached to arms of friends

Blessings wrapped in familiar terms

Or as strange as alien fruit

Synchronicity with unknown agenda

Delivers in simple terms

All that is needed or prayed for

Unexpected and often missed

Where I seek its wisdom

In clarity amid ocean’s mists