It is nearly two in the morning and I am awake… floating back from Mexico, still and still. Whole and freshly dunked, like a plump doughnut saturated by the fat of love. The pace of life has been speedy enough that my new skin is already sloughing off to make way for the newest development . I meditate daily which can transport me back to the land of the healer’s Don Antonio and Cynthia. And, I am also increasingly more here: inside my family, Aurelia’s school, the dock, the flow of energy sessions and improvisational social encounters. Every hug seems to chant a knowing: welcome home!
The main internal advice I hear is: don’t look back. It is natural to miss ‘touching heaven’, and to shed tears about the walk back from the sky dance. Don’t turn to salt. Let go, keeping the rhythm of the movement toward ordinary life pulsating underneath the feet. Simultaneously, a little portion of god’s land is an oasis planted, rooting, sprouting into a promised maturity. It is within the human heart I carry in the spaciousness of my chest. And this is no desert mirage, this is water , sweet water, that is available for dipping, sliding and submerging into…underwater, there is another language. There is a kind of visibility and vulnerability that makes it possible to navigate being a being of two worlds.
“Contemplate water,” Don Antonio recommends. And so I do.
And when I open my eyes, gazing onto the bay from the living room windows on the houseboat, there are large ripples moving towards us. What a responsive element! Ah! That was last week. Since, I have been looking at Charlie’s sea urchin’s, marveling over the the size of the heart of a whale, wondering about the internal waters of the pregnant Virgin de Guadalupe who is carrying the unknown new life force, watering our potted garden dockside, dancing Oxun and Yemaya (goddesses/orisha of the waters) in Anna’s Brazilian class, bathing, boiling, drinking, melting, crying. Today, during the Japanese ceremony, scoops of water were added to the rice while the celebrants wielded their sticks, pounding the mixture toward mochi. Water helping dissolve and the fire of effort , energy and intention reconstituting the grain. Then, hands shaping the moist body of a many grain merging, into bite size cakes. Hm…water.
Naturally neptunian, I am seeing the sea everywhere , like riding the wave of a dream. Because things that we think of as firm, material or fixed can dissolve into near transparency, I imagine what comes out of the blue, the depths, the unconscious, as a gift. Similar to what I find at the water’s edge when I am exploring the coral strewn beach at Akumal. On our third day after arriving there, I sit on the shore, in my purple one-piece, and wonder why haven’t gone for a swim yet? Then, I feel the sensation of recognition mixed with a fear in my belly: because, it is foreign, mysterious, unknown and possibly dangerous. Just then, my eye catches sight of a plastic bottle bobbing with the sea’s wavelet surface. Oh, a bottle! I must retrieve it! And I ‘m in.
Four years ago my nephew Emerson, and his father +uncle and I were out in a modest motorized vessel for a deep sea fishing experience. No fish took the baited hooks. After hours of trolling about…out, out…we did discover a small group of sea turtles. Two were entangled with ropes upon which were attached plastic bottles. When our captain used his large ‘cleaning’ blade to sever the rope from around one of the turtle’s throats, it gasped, audibly inhaling the air it was yearning to be filled with. This event of freeing the turtles makes me more aware of our impact/interconnection with the ocean and her homies. Our original home.
Isn’t this something, I think swimming quickly toward the wind shifting empty bottle. This is the thing that could/can get me wet today; move me beyond my comfort of being terrestrial on the sand with my warm towel under my sprawled, relaxed+reclining body. This love is moving me beyond my fear.
I am the golden doughnut drenched in the love of the Great Mama.
Once ,with my eyes closed and palms held gently over mid-chest one mexican early morning, I saw: a blue field with 4 blue dolphin harnessed to a blue chariot with blue reins carried in the blue hands of a blue bearded and everythinged man. Moving through water…breathing into the blues.