Languor

I never visit a beach without thinking of Anne Morrow Lindbergh and her classic Gift from the Sea. I don't have a copy with me this time but I remember her description of the beach rhythm. So infected am I by this slow and leisurely pace that I'm just now writing a blog post — at 6 p.m.!

Maybe this will be tomorrow's post. Or maybe just today's. A world ruled by clocks and deadlines suddenly has ... none.  I took my watch off when I arrived and don't plan to wear it till I leave.

A delicious languor has set in. Eating when I'm hungry, sleeping when I'm tired. Picking up one book, then another. Letting recent events percolate ever so slowly through a slowed consciousness. Maybe I'll reach some conclusions, maybe I won't.

What's important for a change is not that I try — but that I rest.