I’m on holiday in Kenya, at once a magnificent and tragic and gorgeous place. I can’t help notice the economic divide between the ex-pats and wealthy here, and the local folks living tougher, spartan, non-commodity-filled, far less luxurious lives. Not surprisingly, the latter has a stronger sense of community. A few days ago I was working with kids in a slum, now here I am in a bougie resort. I was wrestling with the contrasts as I strolled to the pristine Watamu beach.
I walked forward to the beach and felt the seldom-used muscles in my arches relishing in the flex, enjoying the sandy trail underfoot. The air slightly cools as the path approaches the beach. The salty scent in the humid air also becomes more potent.
A uniformed young man is assigned to oversee this stretch. We traded “Hallos” and smile. I engaged in a chat, asked him what the name Watamu means. He says “Tamu” means “sweet” so the expression suggests the area, the people, the fish, the foods, the beach, are all very “sweet” and pleasant. Perfectly fitting! I suggested it’s like the Italian expression “La Dolce Vita!” And he seemed to understand, as there are many Italians who frequent the region. I ask if he is from here—“Yes, my whole life: born and schooled and now working here.” Ahh, nice, and guessing aloud his age…maybe, 22? 25 years? “Hahaha! I am 38!” Wow! I am certain there are hardships here, yet also undeniably, there’s something in the attitude and sweetness here that keeps one young.
My head and heart now even more full of thoughts and feelings as I waded forward. The rhythm of the gentle waves quickly calming, lulled me into a soothing reverie. It’s so potent and all-encompassing that without effort I let go of my concerns and troubling emotions. My body too, is so readily at one in the warm saline water, that my lean form releases effort and seems to merge, neither sinking nor floating, rather, suspended within the surrounding balm.
My art-trained eyes identified variations of steel gray, cyan blue, aqua, pale green, neon pinks, vivid oranges, bright glints of gold, pale sulphuric yellow, and blends of all these. A flowing mosaic that shifted with the slightest turn of my head, tip of my view, or blink of an eye. This light-dappled twinkling made it hard to discern the surface.
Surface: whether smooth or rugged, a “cover” or plane of sorts, something we like to think of as “solid.” Yet this is liquid, and so the contradictions and inadequacies of our language begin! Further, it’s shifting every second, every fragment of a second, so it’s never one fixed solid “thing.”
Expanding my intellect’s view again, it’s suddenly murky where and how we define the limits of this evolving expanse of liquid, the “sea or “ocean” that we demarcate as a particular “body” of water. Defined from where, the place it meets the shore? Ah yes, and at what hour of which day do we set the line and mark that boundary? The tide rolls in and out ever-redefining such arbitrary lines, not only by the season or day, but by the hour and minute.
And even so, what of this merging plot of sand and sea that we name a beach? And the sound, and the mangroves, and swamps and pools seemingly separated to our view, but flush with sea-water percolating in the soft soils below?
And how can we account for the “size” of the millions of undersea springs, overland creeks, and river deltas pouring trillions of gallons of replenishment into this vast ocean, itself a part of an interconnected system of liquid life? Lakes, seas, and oceans which continuously shed their “skin” into the air through evaporation and winds, to be dispersed somewhere beyond our silly abstractly defined boundaries?…
As I drift up and down, half afloat, a seemingly minuscule blip of being in the throes of the relentless flows on all sides of my body, unthinkingly I dip my head under, freely plunging my form into the immensity. It washes my mind clear; I don’t resist: effortlessly I sink down into an untroubled state of being.
For the briefest instant my awareness opens upon a pervasive peace beneath all the distractions of sensations, emotions, perceptions, and habitual thinking. I linger in the complete calm for a timeless moment, sense a thoughtless knowing that I am one with it all. I come through that undefinable surface, and the old habits of thought and feelings flood back in, limiting and re-veiling the oneness. Yet I’ve tasted a familiar sweetness, and commit to allowing this expansive awareness of being the space to be known again.
I walked forward to the beach and felt the seldom-used muscles in my arches relishing in the flex, enjoying the sandy trail underfoot. The air slightly cools as the path approaches the beach. The salty scent in the humid air also becomes more potent.
A uniformed young man is assigned to oversee this stretch. We traded “Hallos” and smile. I engaged in a chat, asked him what the name Watamu means. He says “Tamu” means “sweet” so the expression suggests the area, the people, the fish, the foods, the beach, are all very “sweet” and pleasant. Perfectly fitting! I suggested it’s like the Italian expression “La Dolce Vita!” And he seemed to understand, as there are many Italians who frequent the region. I ask if he is from here—“Yes, my whole life: born and schooled and now working here.” Ahh, nice, and guessing aloud his age…maybe, 22? 25 years? “Hahaha! I am 38!” Wow! I am certain there are hardships here, yet also undeniably, there’s something in the attitude and sweetness here that keeps one young.
My head and heart now even more full of thoughts and feelings as I waded forward. The rhythm of the gentle waves quickly calming, lulled me into a soothing reverie. It’s so potent and all-encompassing that without effort I let go of my concerns and troubling emotions. My body too, is so readily at one in the warm saline water, that my lean form releases effort and seems to merge, neither sinking nor floating, rather, suspended within the surrounding balm.
My art-trained eyes identified variations of steel gray, cyan blue, aqua, pale green, neon pinks, vivid oranges, bright glints of gold, pale sulphuric yellow, and blends of all these. A flowing mosaic that shifted with the slightest turn of my head, tip of my view, or blink of an eye. This light-dappled twinkling made it hard to discern the surface.
Surface: whether smooth or rugged, a “cover” or plane of sorts, something we like to think of as “solid.” Yet this is liquid, and so the contradictions and inadequacies of our language begin! Further, it’s shifting every second, every fragment of a second, so it’s never one fixed solid “thing.”
Expanding my intellect’s view again, it’s suddenly murky where and how we define the limits of this evolving expanse of liquid, the “sea or “ocean” that we demarcate as a particular “body” of water. Defined from where, the place it meets the shore? Ah yes, and at what hour of which day do we set the line and mark that boundary? The tide rolls in and out ever-redefining such arbitrary lines, not only by the season or day, but by the hour and minute.
And even so, what of this merging plot of sand and sea that we name a beach? And the sound, and the mangroves, and swamps and pools seemingly separated to our view, but flush with sea-water percolating in the soft soils below?
And how can we account for the “size” of the millions of undersea springs, overland creeks, and river deltas pouring trillions of gallons of replenishment into this vast ocean, itself a part of an interconnected system of liquid life? Lakes, seas, and oceans which continuously shed their “skin” into the air through evaporation and winds, to be dispersed somewhere beyond our silly abstractly defined boundaries?…
As I drift up and down, half afloat, a seemingly minuscule blip of being in the throes of the relentless flows on all sides of my body, unthinkingly I dip my head under, freely plunging my form into the immensity. It washes my mind clear; I don’t resist: effortlessly I sink down into an untroubled state of being.
For the briefest instant my awareness opens upon a pervasive peace beneath all the distractions of sensations, emotions, perceptions, and habitual thinking. I linger in the complete calm for a timeless moment, sense a thoughtless knowing that I am one with it all. I come through that undefinable surface, and the old habits of thought and feelings flood back in, limiting and re-veiling the oneness. Yet I’ve tasted a familiar sweetness, and commit to allowing this expansive awareness of being the space to be known again.
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