Monday, August 15, 2011

August 15th

Tropical island, surrounded by azure waters.  Check.
Blue skies, white sand, palm trees.  Check.
Warm air and cool breezes.  Check.


Smoke-free resort.  Check.
Room ten metres across sand to the water.  Check.
Gorgeous, friendly staff meeting your every need.  Check.


And I'm not exaggerating that last part.  Within minutes of our arrival, complimentary fruit punch consumed, we were in our room and out of our Melbournian cold-weather clothes and into bathers and a sarong.  Down on the sand, on sun loungers, under a beach canopy, book in hand.  Along comes a member of staff with tall glasses of lime water, asking if we're thirsty...  an hour later another staff member strolls along with fruit kebabs, asking if we're nibblish...  Our every desire is met without us even having to get our toes sandy.  Chilled glasses of bubbly delivered... we were after all, celebrating *smile*.  Celebrating four days of doing not much at all.

We wanted to venture to the store, to stock up on essentials... fruit, wine, chocolate - that kind of thing.  (Oh, and we needed scissors for our yarn-crafting, because ours were confiscated at the airport - d'oh!)  We wander down to reception.. "Oh, we can take you anywhere you want.  And when you're done at the store, just ask them to call us to come get you.  You won't need your money, just ask the store to charge back to the room.  Yes, anywhere on the island will do this for you.  Except the post office." We exchange glances and smile.  This could get dangerous.

We discover later, the charge back and pick up service is exclusive to the Beach Club.  I found this out because after we paid for our groceries and left the store, I remembered we needed to call for a pick up.  Except I couldn't remember the name of our accommodation.  It felt utterly odd to be doing so, but I waited back in the queue and said "um, can I please ask you to arrange a pick up for us?"  She said "Yes, you're staying at the Beach Club Resort, are you?"
"YES!" (whew!) "That's the one!"

Lying on the beach today, I had more than a few "am I really here?" moments.
This exact moment in time - a guest at an attentive resort, lying on the sand, waves crashing in my ear, sun warming me from the inside out - is a manifestation years in the making.  Whenever I would think of my ultimate holiday, my ultimate dream to wallow away the hours replenishing my soul, it would always be exactly this.  This manifestation began in my teens.  I never knew how it would happen - I do not come from wealthy means, nor did I ever seek to obtain a high-rolling career - I just imagined myself there.  Here.  And while this isn't the first tropical island getaway I've enjoyed, today came close to the fantasy I always imagined.

What is it with women and weddings.... we just luff, huh?

Ben and I got philosophical today (the intoxication of environment and bubbles tends to bring it out in me), pondering the richness of our day.  We talked about why we weren't putting the money into our mortgage, to reach our goal of financial freedom sooner.  Surely that makes better financial sense, than frittering dollars away on a beach holiday (when in just a few months we will be walking distance to a beach enabling us to wallow in the sunshine much like we are here...)?  

And for me, it came down to this:  I imagine the time immediately after death to be just like it is in the movies.  A conscious recollection of your life so far lived.  I do not live in fear of my own death, at all.  Much in all as I'd love to be immortal (the places I'd travel to, the languages I'd learn, the things I'd discover - oh!), I'm not.  But what I would really lament, is expiring early, being faced with that conscious recollection of my life thus far and being disappointed that I had delayed pleasure.  Delayed the things in life that bring me so much happiness.  I would be really sad about that.  Because I could not go back.  I couldn't ask for one more week.  

How many people start ticking off their bucket lists only once they get that diagnosis of terminal illness?  How many people have even *written* a bucket list, at all?!  Why wait.  I don't believe in an eternal kingdom, where all the good stuff happens after you die.  Cos to me that just sounds like life is merely a waiting room and living is no more than treading water.  And I don't believe that I am a human being striving for spirituality.  No.  Of my spiritual embodiment I am sure of.  I very much see myself as a spiritual being here in this life to have a human experience.  And if I die ten minutes from now, I want to sit down with a bottle of latest vintage Oyster Bay sauvingnon blanc and laugh and cry reliving the fabulous experiences that have made up my life so far.  Because it's been wonderful.

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