Sun tanning

I’ve spent an hour outside in hot sun. My colour has changed, Pink to brown.  I’m exhausted. Sweaty in the hot sun. Enjoying meditating and praying while baking.  I grow impatient. I’ve never been good at tanning. It takes patience. I read in the sun. Loved sailing with the boat on autopilot lying in the cockpit, shortened sails, fishing lines out, sometimes classical music playing. I was reading and enjoying the sun.  Often just a sarong for visitors or my beloved canvas shorts that served for years.  I grew brown and darker in the tradewinds later when fishing was put aside and sails were maintained wing on wing, glorious amidst endless blue.

Today it was just a lawn chair. Hedonism.  Fears of Covid fueled by media. I’ve not had a cold or flu in a couple of years. I thought I’d die returning from India gobbling Zithromax and lozenges and hacking out my lungs. I survived.  I don’t want to be sick again. I worked through so much illness in my day.  

Now I’m only called upon by Madigan to walk him about the park. He doesn’t want long or brisk walks more sniff trips and pee messaging. Then he’s home happy to be napping and occasionally bothering me for hugs and throwing the yellow ball.  

I would be fed grapes and have fans waxed about me and be sated with love all orifices, left used and even abused.  Lemonade.  With the grapes.  Naked bodies providing massages.  I imagine the lives of the elite in times gone by and even today.  Escorts and fancy hotel rooms.  Islands of pleasure. I didn’t even go to a Club Med when they were available. I’ve been more likely to head to an ashram. I was in love and loved and loved to love.  Now I’m old and lust appeals in the fantasy world. My preference really is a nap. I loved the joke where the woman said lets run up stairs to the bedroom and make love. The husband replied I can do one or the other.  I”m sort of that way.  

I don’t know what to do when I grow up so am focusing on doing the next best thing and being a bit minimalist. I’ve been active this weekend but not by comparison to other years.  There’s so much I could be doing but instead I lie on the couch and read.  It’s safe and I can masturbate as a break from boredom.  I make my own meals and do all else myself. I wished that I’d been cared for more in my life but then my stark independence has been safer than the years of betrayal and failed expectations.  I’m okay.  It’s a good life. It’s reasonable. I have endless of memories of excess. This new moderation or even under play is new to me.  I used to overplay my hand and over extend myself.  So busy.  I can’t recall when last I was this free.  

It’s okay. Im grateful for the pace and freedom. I am working on staying in the day and communing with God.  I would do Thy Will not My will.  I would know Thee more fully and truly.  I once strove for samadhi , spiritual awakenings and nirvana and salvation but now I’m just passing through .  I like that we’re walking each other home.  

I’ve a book on dog adventures to write. I’ve written the tales in blogs and just need to collect and edit them. I think it would be fun and even sell. 

Thank you Jesus.