Sunday, January 17, 2010

Where water meets land.

"If you lose me at night, you'll know where to find me," is the advice I give traveling companions when we are where water meets land. My first remembrance of a meditative state of clarity came as a child when I ditched the arcade (where I told my parents I'd be) and dug myself a divot in the warm sand and listened to the surf of the Atlantic. The sounds, the smell, the warm radiant heat from the sand fighting against the chilly evening breeze just took me there, and I returned every night.

I could spend hours where water meets land. Last night I did; it was magnificent.

Our travels were uneventful. In contrast to other travelers who grouse about everything, air travel still amazes me. I pay a modest fee, get into a metal tube, am lifted 36,000 ft into the air and sped to a destination that used to take days or weeks... all in the time it takes to read a magazine. I've done my fair share of flying and still get a little whirl of amazement at the base of my brain when we lift off. I hope the pilot does, too. (My appreciation really didn't gel until I spent ten days trying to make the same trip we'd made in five hours over and over again, from Bloomington, IN to Portland, OR.)

After dinner, Scot promptly passed out; he slept one hour Friday night, and doesn't sleep on planes, so he was tapped. I'd slept none Friday night but then napped on the first leg of the flight (2.5 hrs). I was in the zone, teetering on the cusp of insomnia, being so tired I could not sleep. 

Kris gathered with a few at the bar to watch the Colt's game (how LONG do these things last, anyway? Good Lord!) and I hung out with the guys for a bit. Then I wandered; a night walk through the streets sounded good, but alone and warmed by another margarita made it seem a bad choice. The consensus is that the island is safe, but I didn't care to find out otherwise the hard way.

So I went to the edge of the pier, set my Birks aside and dangled my legs over the edge. The glow of Playa del Carmen, 12 miles in the distance, was before me and the lights of Scuba Club behind me, but in the middle a dark swath of stars. The waves lapped at the pier (and periodically crashed in the void beneath it), starting to wash it all away. Soon the bare expanse of calm settled in, and the wind and sound of the waves scoured my soul clean.

Lying back into Savasana my back settled into place. I longed for all the club lights to go out so it would just me, the stars and the sound of the water. After a moment, even that thought left me. Pure energy from the Source filled me, recharging me in a way twice as good as the best night's sleep.

I was empty in the most beautiful way: no yammering thoughts, no worries, no concerns. It was simply me at the edge of one of the most amazing places on earth, where land ends and sea begins.

No comments:

Post a Comment