For me right NOW there is no waiting, just patience and faith. The bare, open, choiceless emptiness is the gift.
Who knows? Perhaps I'll be surprised by another unexpected gift. Until then, dear friends, know that you are loved.
Part II
The infinitely persistent ocean did not take long to deliver the next surprisingly delightful gift. Yesterday, Thursday, day 3 of my recuperative retreat, found me tired and a bit astounded that 2 restful days had only scratched the surface of my fatigue. Yet I am acquiring the gift of patience and I yielded to my weariness. Alternately reading a psycho-killer murder mystery and napping I slept away much of the day.
When I finally did make my way to the beach, I was treated to a three-ring circus of diving sea birds performing aerial acrobatics, at least 8 cavorting dolphins and young men standing upright on their surfboards, each rowing with an oar like gondoliers (Stand-Up-Paddling). All this entertainment continued for quite a while much to my enjoyment. Later I met an elderly gentleman and his dog who are staying in the same building where I am taking my retreat. "Did you see the porpoises this afternoon?" he asked. Indeed, I had. He said he'd been coming here for years and had never seen anything like it. I claim their visit as my own special gift from the sea. A gift of being and watching without waiting, of being surprised by life itself.
I continue to be patient with myself and my process.
Part III
gift 3: Marine Layer. At first glance out the window the land-sea-sky-scape appears to be uniformly gray interrupted only by the white accents of waves breaking on the shore. Upon closer scrutiny I begin to detect shades of gray revealing lines of demarcation that distinguish sky from sea and sea from land. Then a tinge of green and a hint of tan, muted colors show themselves as I focus my gaze.
If I can discern green, surely blue and yellow are not far off. There is a certain bliss found in this break from the routine of perfectly sun-drenched days at the beach. Yes, even perfection can fall victim to monotony. Contrast provides opportunities to form a preference for one type of experience over another; sometimes the preference is simply more contrast--just for the experience.
After a brief glimmer of blue sky and golden sunlight, the marine layer moves in with a renewed determination. Now, the distinction between sky and sea has been completely erased, the horizon no longer visible and the distant reef just a memory.
March 2011
