The Importance of Sitting Still

[Listen to an audio version of this blog here.]

“You’re like a lizard in the sun on a rock,” I said to Mike, who was sitting on the beach, staring at the ocean with a blank face. Not much behind the eyes today. It’s always funny to people watch on the beach. There was a group of teens laughing loudly and wearing very bright, very tiny bikinis. One boy was wearing Ray Bans. One girl was wearing white sneakers in the sand, popping her bubble gum with her arms crossed loosely. There were young families wrangling one, two, three young children with tired eyes and too many beach props. There was a huge family gathering around some picnic tables, everyone shouting and grilling burgers and shoving greasy potato chips in their mouths. There was a group of tanned, weathered men taking a game of beach volleyball more seriously than life. And then there was me, reading a book (The Dog Stars), and Mike, staring blandly at the water.

It’s really something to watch someone sit so still. In some ways, it made me uneasy, probably because I’m so bad at sitting still myself. He was like one of those Buddha statues that restaurants culturally appropriate to sell more noodle dishes. It was eerie, and I was jealous. I think he said something like, “Thanks,” in response to my lizard comment, and I turned back to my book, digging my feet into the sand and slowly creating a crater behind…