Half of my walks take me down to the sea. My father was born and raised on this coast, and more than once declared that he wanted to end his days by the sea. He died in a valley, and is scattered on a hilltop. Frankly, I don’t care where I die, and would really prefer not to die at all. But it seems that I always come back to this coast. Joseph Conrad lived and wrote on this coast for a while, a merchant seaman like my father, a man who had to give up the sea but never really left it. It was Father’s Day yesterday, and all this naturally came to mind as I stood down by the sea.
Michael Rother once stood by a river and talked about how its endless flow informed and defined the Apache-beat. A whole future music from the run of the river. The mud’s old but the water’s always new. You can see futures from here. I may always come back here, but I’m not trapped. I just walk down to see the river run into the ocean.