Daily Journal, September 14: A Provincetown Journal

Mark and I took a trip top Boston and Provincetown this past July to celebrate our shared birthday (July 6) and to experience the East Coast, to which I had never before traveled.  On the trip, beginning with our plane ride between O'Hare and Logan Airports, I kept a hand-written journal each day (it's too cumbersome to carry a laptop for a week's trip).  In it I wanted to create as detailed a picture as possible of the geography, architecture, people, and attractions we experienced. 
My favorite entry described our crossing of a breakwater from the shore of Provincetown to almost the very tip of Cape Cod.  I was recovering from a minor leg sprain I suffered at home while playing basketball (how butch) and I am not always fond of water.  Plus, I had never tried to navigate jagged rocks with a sharp drop on either side.  I was lacking confidence, and several times wanted to turn back.....But then something clicked and I began to see the path, the water, and my relationship to it all as a great metaphor......and it put me on the road to a new direction.......and it still inspires me.....

"To reach the far end of the cape, and then to the beach, it is necessary to walk across a mile of large rocks with a sharp drop off to the sea on either side. Looking at the uneven path as it extends and converges almost to invisibility on the horizon, it seems a daunting task for one who is less adventurous and who is afraid of losing balance or getting hurt.........

The promise of the beach at the other end, with its openness, tranquility, expansiveness, and its exclusivity at an edge of the world that few are hearty enough to reach, except by boat, (which was an option)--that promise was seductive.......

This was a trip that Mark wanted to make. At first I was reluctant, even terrified. As I made the first tentative steps, and saw the unevenness of the rock surfaces, the large gaps between some of them, the pointedness and randomness of the path, I fretted.....what if I hurt my leg again, or sprained an ankle? or if I slipped and fell into the water below? And did I have enough energy to make the trip back?........

I ventured out, convinced I couldn't do it....hesitating at every rock that was turned at a funny angle....not enjoying the vista, but worrying about the distance yet ahead.... Not enjoying the water, nor the cool breeze all around me....thinking that I had a chore to do, one of great risk, one that might prove painful or too time-consuming.......

Mark was very patient. As much as he really wanted to get to the other side, he offered to stop and turn back whenever I got too anxious. People began to pass us in both directions. All of them were friendly and seemed not to notice or be bothered by our slow pace, my hesitation.......

Suddenly, at the very moment I was convinced I had to stop, I remembered that as a youngster I was discouraged, even forbidden, from taking risks, or testing danger. I had internalized this philosophy and I realized I had lived much of my life this way. It occurred to me that the path of rocks represented my life to this point. I saw that I had been driving myself to distraction by my fear, my inability to focus, to concentrate on the task, and achieve completion......

So I made up my mind to do two things: First, concentrate on each rock in front of me, master the difficulty of each one, and steady my pace, rock by rock. Second, I would stop occasionally, check in with Mark, look toward the horizon, and take in the scenery and feel the air around me, before moving on, step by step, rock by rock....

Soon, the rocks seemed to level, the pace steadied and increased, I ignored the treacherous spaces between the rocks and the steep dropoffs, and I began to enjoy the walk. I stopped checking the distance ahead of us, as I naturally knew that the goal was nearer....

The journey over the rocks explained a part of my life, and I wept, saying that if I finished this journey, I would finish the novel and the play I began to write but despaired of finishing. The image of taking each rock step by step will remain significant as I confront life's creative tasks and the rewards that will be waiting at journey's end....."