Why blog?

The truth is, I don't expect that anyone actually cares about the portion of my life that I spend at the beach, or anywhere else for that matter.  But I have very recently found myself in a place where I feel I can enjoy time spent doing things that don't result in a product.  For instance, time spent at work produces cash to pay the bills and, hopefully, a happier, healthier handful of people who had the misfortune of having to see me that day in my professional capacity.  Outside of work, I have spent time raising children, and so far the product appears to be happy, healthy, well-adjusted young adults who will probably contribute to the well-being of society.  So far, so good.  I have spent time painting, typically resulting in a nice piece that can be hung on a wall and viewed over and over again, or writing something that can be experienced over and over again.  Even when I work around the house, I am usually painting a wall, or planning the redecoration of a room, or preparing a meal - all things that produce something in the end.  I can measure how my time was spent by looking at the products of that time, even it it's just a pile of folded towels and underwear.

Now, I'm finding myself paddling through the rough surf, struggling to keep my board straight to get through the crashing waves without getting thrown off, so that I can stand up and paddle along the coast beyond the surf, crossing paths with the stingrays and jellyfish as I enjoy the solitude of the ocean.  I stand on the balcony with binoculars in my hands and watch a family of dolphins meander along same path that I paddled earlier in the day, breaching the surface in playful arcs and exclamations.  I explore intercoastal waterways leisurely on my modern day version of the ancient native's rafts, waterways that I have crossed by bridge in my car countless times without thinking twice about.  I am allowing myself time for activities that are valuable only in the moment of them, and that carry no product forward.  I can't come home after a morning of kayaking and say, "Here, honey, have this bit of memory I made today."

But I'm really not all that free of the need to see a product come from my efforts, and, frankly, I'm not all that good at retaining memories without help.  I find that I much prefer to head out on my bicycle for a ride up the beach if I have my camera in the basket.  I have purchased waterproof pouches for my iPhone, so I can take it along while I paddle or ride and log the day's trip, both by GPS tracking and photographically.  I am trying out a GoPro, so I can bring back images of the hammerhead shark that ate a fish in midair twenty feet in front of me.  Because, you see, I still need to have a product to show for my time.  Maybe it stems from the days in medical school, where, as a new mother with an adorable but demanding infant, I had to make efficient use of every minute of my day.  I feel a need to have something to show for it, to prove that I did something useful with it, and that I didn't waste it.  We only have so much time, after all.

So, this blog is part of my proof, my documentation, my accomplishment.  It will allow me to continue enjoying those activities whose only product is a sense of tranquility and wellness.

And a blog that no one will ever read.