The Radiant Deep

Sometimes we lay our heads sideways on the water

to look up at the skies and just gaze. 

We ponder not so much in thought as in

feeling what is stirred within.

~The Dolphins

From Muriel Lindsay's 

"The Dolphin Letters"

Sometimes clouds can be total works of art. Like this one this morning that made me think instantly of an angel wing. Never mind the rest of it, which was this big marvelous swath of ethereal energy propelling itself upward, like a giant hand reaching out from the sun. It was mesmerizing, and I wanted to just keep walking, to get closer and closer to it.

It reminded me of swimming in the gulf stream, one of the most incredible experiences I've ever had. The way the sunlight hit the water and went so deep, rays and rays dancing and melting into each other in the unfathomable and mysterious depths of rich indigo blue. It was hypnotizing, and then, too, I just kept swimming to follow it, though the trick was it was everywhere. It was everywhere and it was just so tantalizingly out of reach. I was constantly hearing my name yelled from far away that I was too far from the boat and needed to turn around.

But the truth was, out there in the middle of the endless blue, nothing but water and sky, I didn't care. I would have followed that light anywhere. Not only was it stunning and completely otherworldly in and of itself, but in that glorious alternate universe there was simply nothing but sublime sensory experience: no monkey mind; no sticky thoughts, no fears or anxiety. No critical self talk or stories about lack or belonging; no heaviness or fogginess or limitations, no trauma in the body or psyche. Just a heart blown wide, and a body, mind, and spirit more at home, more present, more alive and in the fullness of its being than it had ever been before. Feeling, as the dolphins say, all that was stirred within.

That day was bookended by days with hours each in the water with dolphins, incredible experiences that could never quite be believed, moment after moment that leveled me, that melted and undid me, that filled me and everything around me with magic and joy on a trip that nearly imploded before it even got started. Days before the Gulf Stream swim I had walked on the boat exhausted by the journey across the continent and to Bimini, the smallest island in the Bahamas, but filled with excitement to be there again after nine years. Half an hour later I declared to anyone who might want to listen that I could not stay and walked off the boat. I just left. It was outrageous of course. For so many reasons, not the least of which was Bimini herself, tiny island, little ability to get around or communicate, nowhere to go or stay; still, it felt out of my hands, my body moving of its own volition.

It started with learning that my favorite crew member would not be there as promised. Sweet Tita, all smiles and morning hugs and light in her beautiful eyes, who saw me nine years before and understood and held my hand and walked me terrified through the surf; then held it still as we snorkeled back and forth parallel to the beach, as I began to get the rhythm of it; then held it again, the first time in the big, endless ocean; literally held me as I met my wild fear and watched it morph into something utterly unexpected; the greatest pleasure and the greatest freedom I have ever known. Few people have left their mark on me like she did and I could not wait to see her again, having planned my trip completely around when she would be there.

It went down hill from there. An awful, airless, tiny, cramped cabin shared with three other women, and a wall of energy put off by one member of the group that felt so negative I had no choice but to flee, only to wander, my own mini odyssey, until I finally got it that there was simply nowhere to go and I walked back aboard an hour later, sullen and embarrassed and pissed off, straight into the arms of Capt. Geoff, who had arrived while I was gone; big, totally dysfunctional teddy bear who with Tita and the dolphins had rocked my world nine years before, and promised, easily broken I now knew, to make it all okay.

An hour later we all boarded a stifling van for a local beach while Geoff put in supplies and got the boat ready. Totally out of my body, never had I felt less like I belonged anywhere, and I straggled behind the group, and slowly took off my shorts and t-shirt and walked into the warm, clear water, the salty lap of the Great Mother, where I lay on my back, and just like the dolphins, stared up at the endless sky, as She, in her profound wisdom, held, soothed, and prepared me for what would be the most remarkable, otherworldly five days of my life.


(So far ;) ~

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The new title of this blog, The Radiant Deep, came directly from that day swimming in the gulf, as well as the knowing that so far anyway, no matter how deep my dives have been, the light has always been there even if it felt out of reach, shining, waiting, while I gestated in the dark.