The pier in Cayucos, California, six miles north of Morro Bay, juts 953 feet into the Pacific Ocean. The usual population of surf fishermen and their fish bait, pelicans, seagulls and pigeons share its heavy wooden planks. Visitors such as myself wander and gaze into fishermen’s plastic buckets, which are never full enough of today’s catch. We stare down a pelican perched on the railing, gaping at our presence. He reluctantly leaves, heaving himself into the air, working hard to gain altitude. Airborne, he will gain a perspective I will never know. Beating his wings against the rushing air, he will cruise and glide, unaware of my envy and also unaware of his gift of flight.
He will peer down on the beach and observe those in the yoga class beneath him who, through mental and physical discipline, seek a greater state of enlightenment. They pursue a way to break the limitations of physical bonds and a way to purify their minds from unworthy appetites. This platoon of practitioners sits in a sea of sand for long minutes, eyes closed, legs folded tightly. Intermittently, ever thoughtful, ever meditating, they arise, bend, and stretch one arm to the sand and one to the sky….
It is the same sky where, under watchful and wondering eye, our pelican hovers. The pelican above, the yoga practitioners below—the steadfast subjects of his interest. Sitting quietly and reflectively, then moving and stretching together, their bodies create a puzzling pattern to his eye.
His eye, however, is an empty one, staring to comprehend these earthbound mortals, while he, oblivious of their quest to be free, soars high and away.
Which is worthy of greater admiration—the driver who had the confidence to leave the dog in the Mini convertible with the top down (!) while grocery shopping, or the dog that trained its master to do the shopping?
Most of us will remember the recent iPhone 4 pre-release debacle that transpired when an Apple company employee lost the new, not-yet-released phone in a bar he frequented, and it was discovered by the media.
Now the fiasco has recurred. This time, I am the one who discovered Apple’s latest top-secret not-yet-released gadget, mounted on the back of a bicycle.
This latest hi-tech wonder by Apple is apparently designed to help meet the needs of the non-techie-minded public. The device appears to be a technological step backward. They have created an alternative to having e-mail delivered to a computer’s digital mailbox: a silver-colored physical mailbox, in this case, attached to a bicycle.
The device actually converts e-mails sent from a computer into a physical letter that is delivered into the aluminum mailbox.
Thanks to this creation, the geek-fearing souls among us need no longer suffer the embarrassment of showing their limited e-mail skills. Apple’s newest common-man’s e-mail conversion technology forever removes the customer’s need to climb the exotic digital-expertise ladder. Apple has found a way to convert e-mails into an old-fashioned physical letter and deliver it into the new, fashionable shiny silver mailbox, which can be mounted anywhere: attached to a bicycle, glued to the hood of a fancy Ford Mustang, or pack-mounted on the back of a miniature schnauzer.
I had to see this secretive device in action with my own eyes. As I stared at the contraption, I heard a distinct whirring sound from within it. What luck! Apparently, a piece of reconstituted e-mail was just then arriving! What an opportunity to break into Apple’s newest product and retrieve this digital e-mail that would be magically transformed to hardcopy letter!
With the bicycle’s owner nowhere to be seen, I stealthily crept toward it. Slowly and gingerly, I drew down the mailbox’s handle, breaching Apple’s high-tech security system.
There, before my eyes, I beheld a message that was still in the process of reverse-engineering. An e-mail avatar faintly appeared, then faded before my gaze. In its place materialized, first as an apparition, then as a reverse-engineered hard-copy, a reincarnation of the original digital message:
“Barry, thanks for your good e-mail late last night. I knew we had been out-of-touch, but it was so good to hear or your wanting to come back on the Winning Side.
“It’s incredibly hard being a mortal, and it’s sometimes hard for even me to imagine. Challenges and defeats often come before victory. Always remember that. Last night, when you connected with me, that was your victory.
“The other hard thing for me to remember is that people don’t easily forget their errors, even once they get on the Winning Side. The thing is, I do forget all those errors—I promise that I do! I know that’s hard for you to fathom.
“So, because of my memory loss, could you shoot me the topic of your defeat to remind me again what this was all about?
“On second thought, never mind—I still won’t remember, whether I get it by e-mail or hard copy. I totally forget everything that you’ve set aright with me.
“Thanks again for trying to be all that you can be. You haven’t disappointed me. I’m eager to see the next chapter.”
