Mid-morning today I tricycled nearby our cottage at Lands End, Sea Pines on Hilton Head Island. Initially I deplored that I hadn’t any longer the capacity I once had to cycle on the beach. To overcome or compensate this hurdle I turned onto laneways I hadn’t previously explored (no doubt as a consequence of my haste to get onto the beach). While the beach is primarily passable for 12 miles (most favourably at low tide) our residency at the southern toe of the island exposes us to less volatile wave action as a result of which the sand tends to pile and retain water more than it does directly on the ocean unencumbered by the the obstructing curve of the land. Consequently if I wish to access the beach further northward I am obliged to navigate paths and eventually climbs and dips onto the beach. This would be all very well if I had the ability to walk my trike along the narrow pathways and down the soft sandy boundary of the beach head onto the flat surface. But I do not. Handling a tricycle on foot is cumbersome. Granted I have on two occasions succeeded to get onto the beach. But not without unenviable effort; nor might I add, without regret. The beach is undoubtedly magnificent but I have scoped it many times in the past and as a result the discoveries I made today were all the more persuasive. This admission together with my confession of advanced age and associated decomposition has further and finally convinced me of the merit and sustainability of a new view of the island.  And the universe in general (being as I am a firm believer in the germane evolution of thought).

I suppose too that part of the allure of these newly awakened avenues of passage was their novelty and convenience. I cannot help but sense the metaphor of being so unwittingly persuaded to seduce oneself by what is immediately at hand.  This is not to suggest I hadn’t devoted myself to worthwhile exercise; or, that I hadn’t undertaken any industry is these new found arena. By account I completed 20.21 Kms  This athleticism (surpassing my current daily average of 4 Kms) is in part due to the exceptional comfort I derive from the Atlas model of tricycle with its high handlebars and seat permitting easy leg extension. Yesterday I thought it was my imagination that my neuropathic legs felt much improved.

The full story concludes with the poignant observation that this is the perfect life.  I haven’t any foolishness about fame or fortune.  Those credentials have never figured in my view from the bow. Instead I have with noticeable assiduity and conviction directed myself to mining whatever resources are readily apparent and achievable.

Threading and insinuating this shameful self-satisfaction is the equally ready acknowledgment of my fortuitous history (even though marked by a number of catastrophic life-threatening moments). But what matters naturally is the ineffable domain called the “present “. It is a paradox of change and immutability.

I haven’t the data to support a universal application of this formula.  It clearly embraces that additional.ingredient called luck (a thesis strongly advanced by my literary hero Thomas Hardy from whom I can think of no greater advocacy). On the strength of that learned proposition I am swiftly drawn to the moment, sitting in the late afternoon sunshine on the  deck overlooking the cove at high tide.

My defence of this smugness  – we’re one preferred – is that it would constitute inviolable arrogance to contradict the fortune. I redress any impertinence by disclosing my perhaps flavourless ambition to do whatever I can to contribute.  That contribution is of course essentially committed to others as opposed to life in general. Just as it is my favour to relish these elementary features I have mentioned, so too is it my advantage and opportunity to enlarge as best I can the lives of others whom I have the privilege to acquaint. The success of my performance is no more guaranteed than the gifts or happenstance I’ve been given. Nor is there anything beyond effort I can do to assure the result. The get and give are upon identical terms.  There is no entitlement. Accordingly for the time being at least – which, let’s face it, is a small confinement – it’s the perfect life!