The difference
between reality and imagination is an important distinction for me. Especially
since I make my living writing fiction. The great thing about storytelling is that
you can make up new friends and enemies, embellish the truth, or even bend time.
I started writing
fiction when I was a consultant with a lot of idle time in hotels. After a stressful day, I could
come back to my room and after a few minutes of writing
I was completely at ease, transported to another
place and time. The imaginative had become reality.
I'm seventy years old. My brain still feels fresh and young, but the reality is my body is
sore and not always willing to do what I bid it to do. A while ago, I
rode the wave in the top photograph. My son, with a little Photoshop magic,
turned it into the bottom picture. I'd like to be able to ride a big wave, but
in truth, I'm happy as punch to get any rides at all. A couple years ago,
a ruptured disc made it impossible for me to get from my bed to the bathroom
without a walker. Now, every wave is a blessing and I'm thankful I can still get up
and down the hill to the beach. I have as much fun at my local beach break as I
used to have in more challenging surf. Beside, I can always sit at my keyboard
and imagine it to be whatever I want.
And that's the point … it's all good.
(Here's a recent surfing video made with a GoPro.)
