Permutations in Impermanence

Why is getting caught in a downpour offshore in south Florida so electrifying, so stimulating and so romantic simultaneously? I’ll tell you why…

Two days of lolling about the beach, riding waves and undulating in the surf; trolling offshore for hours, fragrant, sweetly oiled and salt drenched skin, the gentle rocking motion of the seas with nothing present but a moment. Away from traffic and noise and away from all the worlds bigotry, malicious religious beliefs and personal pretenses. All you have is you, a boat, the sea and the perfect companion. There is no room to be anything but real. A squall, rising off the horizon brings a bit of added tension, but not too much, just enough to get your motors revving. Making a moment precise. The period at the end of a sentence.

And, as if it weren’t enough, the sights and sounds of a placid, glasslike southern Atlantic ocean, 12 miles offshore, with sailfish shooting beneath your boat in 1000 feet of the most cerulean blue water you’ve ever seen, with its thick zooplankton and phytoplankton mixing up a prehistoric soup, is being one with the Universe. This is where god lives. We are one in this place and if it were up to me, I’d stay out there eternally. I belong here. My spirit resides here though I am earthbound.

Why is this place, where you are at its mercy, a mere speck bobbing on surface tension, in a world alien to ground dwellers so incredibly sensuous to me? I suppose it is the adrenaline rush of absolute acceptance, fearless trust coupled with the vast unknown. And yet I know it. I know it like I know the palm of my hand; the curve of my hips. I love it and it loves me back. Openly and honestly, without facade it accepts me into its arms.

Every day it beckons from my doorstep. Everyday I see what most never do. Manatees at lowtide approaching slowly and in circuitous fashion, surround me like an amoeba-like ball of bait fish, only to snort water from their nostrils at the last second in my direction. Late afternoons, with no one around, a marlin slams the surface to rid itself of sea lice bearing witness to only my eyes. Early morning, a shark patrols in 4 feet of water, passing by smoothely without intent. Baby loggerhead sea turtles, pop their heads out of the sand and scurry toward the shoreline on the full moons brightly lit sky.

When my father read to me Robinson Crusoe at 3, I believed, even though just a little girl, I could subsist on a island in the middle of the South Pacific. I still believe it. When I read Ernest Hemingway’s, An Old Man and the Sea, I believed I would too, haul to shore the biggest catch in the tiniest of boats. I still do. Though a metaphor, big things do come in small packages still… 😉 In Castaway, I believed in the pain in losing Wilson. It was much, much more than a soccer ball. He lost in order to gain something incredible. A pair of wings. I too have gained through loss and then rise like a phoenix from the ashes.

I am a believer. No matter what has or ever will happen to me in this life, I believe I can make happen anything I dream of. I see it in my head and I believe it with all my heart. I have learned that dreaming is believing and it is possible to string those dreams all together and live a dream of your own making from these permutations in impermanence.

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