Last night I paddled among waves glowing green as they crashed, to a campfire on the beach of Tenacatita, under a full night sky of stars and silhouetted palm fronds. Around the fire were three traveling friends, my current sailing partner, Kathryn (who I met last summer riding south from the Alaskan arctic on a bicycle,) and two guys who were hitch hiking from Quebec to Brazil (Ottar and Hogan,) they were looking for a ride from baja to the mainland, which we provided and more. I played the guitar against the stump of a palm, entranced by the fire.
When I woke up, I had that feeling of not being present, I recognized my lack of recognition, lack of seeing. So I went for a walk. I was walking by a beautiful jungle creek, birds singing all around, abundant fish in the shallows, inchworm on my arm. Yet I wasn’t fully there. I continued to loosely ponder that, not grasping it.
And as the others sat at a restaurant, I sat on a palm tree stump, playing my guitar. I felt distant.
Twenty feet in front of me a little bird landed, one of the most beautiful birds I had ever seen. Mango-yellow breast, brilliant green cap, and sparkling blue on the back. It seemed specifically interested in me, hopping closer little by little, until it was at my feet. My mind raced to label what was going on…I’ve never had a wild bird be this focused on me before. But my mind racing prevented from my actual soaking in the presence of the bird, I felt like I was missing an amazing moment, but didn’t know how to enter it. I’m not sure why, but the words “I love you” started repeating in my mind, as if spoken to the bird, and as those words repeated, the mind chatter stopped, and I began to see the bird in full color, right there in front of me. I longed for it to be a message from a purer dimension, I longed for communication, for connection. But it continued to hop and peck at the dirt, and glance at me, silently.
No comments:
Post a Comment