Dreams of Robert Smithson at Leadbetter Beach

leadbetter beach . stacy elaine dacheux . august 2012

“The scenic ideals that surround even our national parks are carriers of a nostalgia for heavenly bliss and eternal calmness.” – Robert Smithson

I am not certain about my own nostalgia nor others expectations, but I am perhaps too aware of my body as a pool of water trying to connect to other bodies of water.

The barrier is the problem.

My husband told me to stop apologizing. I just can’t. I do it all the time, for no reason, for the spirit of awkwardness, in a desperate attempt to find intimacy, or community.

It’s embarrassing to admit this.

Often, I wonder if my overwhelming supply of sorrys is the result of needing forgiveness for something larger, more horrible that I did in a past life.

The sorry is the habitual residue that holds me in.

My body of water.

My body of sorrys.

I am thinking now of the board game: Sorry! and playing it on the floor of my great-grandmother’s house. The objective of Sorry! is to be faster than any other player, and to cockily or gracefully emit “Sorry!” when plowing past someone.

I might start to think of my sorrys differently from here on out.

I don’t even know if I believe in past lives, but I do love Shirley Maclaine and the whismy of people who defiantly believe and actively strive to communicate with their guts.

I wonder if this is where our love affair with the sea comes from– the longing to spiral out.


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