Chasing Down The Muse: As the year turns

Welcome, 2010!

For most everyone I know, the turning of the calendar to this New Year was done with a sigh of relief. While we recognize it is merely a way to measure our lives in days, months and years, there is something ever hopeful about the dropping of the New Year’s Eve Ball. We want to believe along with Father Time, that we can — out with the old, in with the new!

The first day of the year was picture perfect. After the slow setting of the round and brilliant blue moon, pink skies opened wide the day.

Across the country, those sitting in frigid temperatures, their arms aching from snow shovel duty, had to be asking themselves, as they watched the Rose Parade under glittering sunny skies, Why don’t we live there?

Because I am not much for hours in front of the television, the morning provided the ideal setting for a long soul-filling beach walk. Emma joined me, and we headed north to Crystal Cove to take advantage of miles of continuous sand, no cars and, for the most part, few people.

We were all happy car chatter, off on our first jaunt of the year. Buster accompanied us, with the knowledge that he’d get a short cliff-top walk (the dreaded “no dogs on county beaches” rule in place), then nap while we strolled the shoreline.

On the ridge top trail, Buster sniffed out bunnies and yanked on his leash trying to chase tiny birds. Emma and I started our annual conversation about “letting go of” and “embracing” ideas. She had broadcast earlier in this column her intention of embracing curiosity and optimism. I wanted to dovetail onto the curiosity bandwagon. I like what kind of energy that generates, and — forgive me — find myself curious as to what curiosity might bring to my life.

To broaden my embracing, I added adventure and stability. The counterpart to that, what I am intentionally letting go of, includes fear, insecurity and negative self-talk. As is usual with this exercise, as soon as I had committed to a course of action, my mind immediately began to trash my choices.

Intentions set, we marveled at the sea shimmering below, beckoning us further. With Buster safely parked on his soft bed, with a stack of chewies and bowl full of water, we headed toward the shore.

All good so far. Except wait — there was no shoreline! Well, hardly any. That same sky-filling full moon had drug behind it ultra high and low tides, and our timing had landed us at the edge of the incoming high. Intrepid hikers we are — and of course, cast in my first adventure of the year, we thought we could find enough hopping points on the cliff’s edge to make it around the water.

What there was of sand was beautiful. The usual collection of sea birds scurried in all directions foraging for tiny crustacean morsels. We paused and observed them, busy in their work. I photographed with a small camera, wishing as usual, that I had a longer lens. Emma found a beautiful ball of sea glass — first of the year — and tucked it in her pocket.

A jogger ran past. Then a solitary walker. There was not much need for exchange of words. The stillness of the space, the light on the water, the sounds of small waves, the chatter of the birds, and the scent of the sea communicated more than our language could properly translate.

The final turn toward the cottages at the cove was the one that did us in. There simply wasn’t any beach and there weren’t any rocks left to jump one to the other. We were left with “time the waves and run like the wind.” OK, what’s a wet toe or two?

Because the tide was still coming up, and after I discovered pocket money in my jacket, we decided to stop at the Beach House for refreshments. Two mimosas sipped slowly in the backyard sunlight seemed like a delicious luxury.

I don’t think that any of us expect 2010 to magically erase any of the difficulties, sorrows and challenges that we were confronted with in 2009, but I know that I believe reflection provides salient information that can guide our choices and direction.

As I observe myself, I watch the various ways in which my own path is changing.

Many things that I thought were easy have become hard, and that which was hard — well, maybe this year, they just might become easy.

CATHARINE COOPER delights in watching the world change. She can be reached at ccooper@cooperdesign.net