Negative thoughts, expressions, actions, don't help me on my journey. It is easy to be negative. It is easy to find fault with others or oneself. Complaining doesn't go very far toward solving problems. Thinking of solutions, taking positive steps to solve problems makes more sense to me. Stop bitching and do something!
After making this decision earlier today or yesterday or whenever it was, I was walking through the parking lot at Crescent Beach, Siesta Key, this evening. The beach nominated or designated as the Most Beautiful in the contiguous 48 states recently. It's O.K., but I like Katama or any beach on the South shore of the Vineyard as much or more than Crescent Beach. Crescent Beach is certainly wider. The sand is very fine, like powder almost. I like the sand I grew up with on the North Bluff or South Beach or The Bend before it was replenished.
But I digress. Walking through the parking lot with Kay, soon to be 85, Bradford, I spied a bumper sticker that said, "Think of something to do, Do it and Don't Bitch about it." Right On!
Why do I mention Kay's age? Because at almost 85 she is younger than a lot of people I know who are in their 50's or 60's. I wanted to go the the Sunday drumming event, which I've missed each Sunday. About 2 hours before sunset people arrive at the beach, some with drums, some without. Tonight there must have been a couple of hundred people. More dancing than drumming, but you get the picture. Guys in dreadlocks, women in tie-dye. Men with grey hair, women with jangley stuff around their hips doing a little hip-shaking. Young, teens, twenties, men, women, little kids dancing to the beat of all the drums and percussion instruments. Kay and I stood behind a line of drummers who had their back to us facing the dancers.
A policeman brought a beautiful child about 6 with jet black hair in curls though the crowd carrying her on his shoulder. The drums stopped. She was lost. A call went out, "Is anyone missing this child?" No response. The young girl looked over the heads of the dancers, drummers and bystanders. She was not smiling, but she did not look scared or teary. She looked around, no one came forward. Another call, "Is anyone missing a child?" Finally from the direction of the water past the edge of the on-lookers someone emerged and a cheer went up as the young child was reunited with someone. The drumming began again.
Kay and I bounced gingerly up and down to the music. Too many people around us to really dance. The drumming was pretty monotonous, but very tribal too. As the sun began to set for real we walked away from the crowd to see the large red ball sink into the distant ocean. A few people nearby applauded. The drumming continued. Kay and I both wished we had drums. I began thinking about the kids in NY City who beat on plastic pails with anything they can find. That's what I would like to do. Find a good sized empty plaster pail and hit it with a stick. Maybe I'll try that when I get back to NJ or the Vineyard. Why not? The last thing I need is more stuff. A drum? Buy a drum? I don't think so.
Back to being nice, talking nice, writing nice. Being critical or judgmental? Leave that to the professional critics. Constructive criticism can be helpful, but tearing things or people down might feel like fun, but think again. What does it accomplish? Often tearing others apart serves some people's need to make themselves feel better, but is it constructive or destructive? To others? To oneself?
Good Karma. Don't we all want to have Good Karma, not Bad Karma? The old expression, "What goes around comes around." Be good. Do Good.
Be mean. Say bad things. Think negative thoughts. Take negative actions. It all comes back to bite you, as in Bad karma.
So today Kay went to Sunrise Services out in front of the condos by the large swimming pool. I was invited by a couple of people, but I told them not to count on me. I missed the sunrise by a few minutes. I heard the sun rose out of the fog, looking like it was rising out of the water. Too bad I missed that, but missing the services was a positive for me.
Kay had nothing to do today. Everyone, or nearly everyone here has family visiting so they are occupied. I had planned to go to St. Petersburg today on the last day of the Fernando Botero show. When I found out they had a brunch I asked Kay if she would like to go and she was delighted. I'm not one for going to brunches, but the Museum of Fine Arts in St. Petersburg had their brunch in a lovely setting in the foyer. Napkins the color of Easter Eggs. Lots of food choices. It was leisurely and fun.
After brunch, 11:30 to 1:30, very leisurely, we toured the Botero exhibit. I was totally unfamiliar with his "Baroque World." Born in 1932 in Columbia Botero lives in Paris, New York, etc. etc. Plump, stubby figures are peculiar to his style of painting. Easy to see his influences, spelled out for us by the wall signs. Sculptures in bronze, marble kinda smallish, but large paintings. I love his bold colors, but I'd like to read more about him and his art. I'm not an instant fan, even though I admire many of the artists he admires.
After a tour though the permanent collections we took a drive around the marinas, past the SPYC. Lots of large sailboats docked, not moving on a lovely, warm afternoon. As I walked into one gallery in the permanent collection wing, I found myself facing a painting of a woman standing in front of the Harbor View Hotel in Edgartown. That was a nice surprise! The artist, Joseph Konopka. The women, perhaps his wife, painted in 1969. The painting titled, Harbor View. It consists of a large face-on or front view of the Harbor View from the path to the lighthouse. The Hotel almost overpowers the woman in the foreground, at least for me, whose interest was in the Hotel, not the woman. 1969, the year Kennedy went off the Dike Bridge. Who is Konopka? What was he doing there then? Where is he now?
Gotta go. Always too much to do. I haven't cracked the Times. I'd like to get a look at the 6'8" woman basketball player for Baylor. I need to get up early to get to Fort DeSoto in order to catch warbler migration coming in from the Gulf before the beach goers hit the beach, etc. etc. To say nothing about the amount of packing I need to do. Ouch!
But, I've got to say as easy as it was to get into St. Petersburg, it was not easy getting out of St. Petersburg. Kay and I could not find 275 South. We asked fellows wearing t-shirts lettered, Puerto Rico, who consulted with other Spanish-speakers before directing us around corners, down side-streets, a fellow selling papers on the corner who directed us toward the Tropicana Dome or whateverit is, two cops who looked like they were in the middle of a drug bust- two cruisers, two unmarked cop cars outside a house with red flashing lights on the roofs of the unmarked cars, when I shouted, "We're lost. How do we get to 275 South?" The cop's reply, "We're a little busy here." Then he pointed back toward the way we had come, across Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd., a fellow, who needed to zip up his fly, directed us down an alley, past the piles of clothes on the sidewalk outside a shelter and St. Vincent de Paul donation center, past a very pregnant woman, men sitting in the shade, until finally we found a sign we eventually led us to 275 South.
After a quick swim in the pool, shower, the drumming, sunset and some expresso chip ice cream for dinner, a load of darks in the washer, now the drier it's been a busy day. I'd like to make these posts shorter and more readable, but I don't have the time. FAN
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