Death of my Cell Phone

While spending some time in Northern California this week I had the pleasure of walking out into the ocean on a jetty - a pile of rocks and concrete that marks the entrance to Humboldt Bay in Eureka, just south of Arcata, where I attended college on a few occasions. The Jetty is flat on top and lined with old rotting railroad ties. I walked with my old friend, Jefferey. The surf was stormy and sloppy and did not look that great so we left our boards at the car and walked out on the jetty, white and green waves crashing around us as we ambled. Periodically, unpredictable explosions of frothing surf splashed the jetty liberally. 

One such wave exploded right above me as we were walking back toward the beach.  It was upon me before I knew it.  I felt my down jacket and cotton pants push into my body with the force of the water as my entire right side was soaked by the sea. A thundering cascade of oceanic negative ions!! Such a gift! 

A few moments later I noticed my cell phone in my right pocket making some urgent vibrations and then... cellular stillness. I tried to dry it best I could, but it seemed to have died, not responding to my urgent power-button pressing. 

My phone did die. And with it went my ability to connect via cell phone until I get a new one. So, I am currently phone-less — soon to be remedied but it is an interesting thing to be phoneless. I have gotten used to having that connection. It was taken so quickly by the ocean. A tool, so integral to how I communicate and connect with my people - gone in a splash. 

Perhaps with less cellular connection I will be freed up to make more sensual, earth connections. I feel grateful for the loss of my phone actually. It is nice to be without it for a while. And the experience of being on the Jetty, with my old friend, Jefferey, surrounded on three sides by the surging power of the stormy Pacific — that was worth it. It was a great walk.