OMD Travelogue | Day 203

Fresh year officially in motion, I spread out the towel. Lie down and dig my toes into the sand.

Nearly three years ago I sat on this same beach. Pondered the future. Reflected on the past. I was the same person then. Am an entirely different person now. Such is life. Always changing and morphing. Moving forward then circling back.

Thinking over 2015 the moments are crisp, the timeline fuzzy. Memories merge, jumble, cause pause. Did that all happen in just a year? Visiting Ecuador, riding on a motorcycle for the first time, becoming obsessed, learning to drive a motorcycle, attaching a sidecar, venturing into the wild. Was it just 6 months ago that I left Oregon? Began driving around the continent? Logging nearly 15,000 miles?

Shadow falling across my closed eyelids, I squint one eye open. Look up at a grinning Baylor. Dude, you’re blocking my sun. Seeing the look of mischief I cover my face to block the incoming deluge. Prepare for the inevitable as he shakes heartily, covers me in a shower of sand and promptly walks off.

Laughing, I rock to my feet. Toss the hat in the sand and jog to the water’s edge. Baylor eyes the waves, looks at me. Come on. Let’s go swimming. He successfully crosses two waves. Sees the swell of the third and quickly turns for shore.

Diving under, I swim as far as a single breath allows. Surface, inhale quickly and do it all again. Past the incessant crashing, I look back to land. See Baylor standing at the water’s edge, staring at me intently. Treading water, I wave. Swim parallel to the sandy shallows so my canine lifeguard can jog along with my leisurely paddle.

Emerging from the water, I lean down. Scratch Baylor’s ear. Thanks buddy.

Digging through the weathered bag, I pull out wrinkled magazines. Shake off the towel and quickly lay down before Baylor commandeers it entirely.

Flipping the glossy pages, I read about Einstein. A life full of accomplishments, marked with tumult. Browse through stories outlining the year in review. Athletes who won, politicians who flubbed, scientists who innovated, musicians who reigned supreme, people who had the worst year yet, the best year ever.

Rolling over, I stare at the cerulean sky. Wonder what it means to have a good year, a great life. What are the measures of excellence? The markers of success?

Baylor snoring at my side, I think back to an interview I heard once. Have to agree that really we can’t know if someone was successful without knowing their goals and aspirations. The man across town who earned a fat promotion, bought a new car and threw a party to celebrate seems successful at first glance. But what if really he set out to live a life of simple solitude? The musician playing passionately as passersby rush past on the street might seem like he’s failing. But what if he just set out to commit fully to his art for a year? Money, fame, accomplishments, belongings, these aren’t reliable hallmarks of success in and of themselves. It all depends on the objective.

Success making aspirations in mind, I stretch my arms overhead. Rouse Baylor and stand. Strolling along the water’s edge. I crouch down. Pick a tiny shell from the crustacean laden sands. I know what I’ll be doing during 2016, there’s still so much of North America to discover. And I know that perfection isn’t my goal, that I’m satisfied with trying. Now I just need a bit of clarity, a word, a vision, a success tinged target at which to aim.

Whistling, I call Baylor closer. Kick water at him and laugh as he jumps in anticipation. Looking ahead, I take off down the beach. Might as well move forward. We’ll surely end up circling back at some point anyways.

203 days down. Many to come.