Oceanic meditations

The below is dedicated to Linda, Sandra and all fellow ocean lovers, with love

There’s something about the ocean I gazed at every day in Varkala (The Arabian Sea) that invoked a deep sense of peace and wholeness. Not just for me, but many in our little yoga retreat group.

I’ve lived by many bodies of water in my life, but my affinity is for two things: the ocean and the mountains. I especially love oceans where you can also find sandstone cliffs, such as the northern beaches of Sydney.

When I lived up that way (first Manly, then Harbord and finally North Narrabeen) I’d use all my spare time stalking the beaches south to north and whenever possible scrambling ’round the cliffs, stepping in salty puddles and revelling in the colour, smell and touch of the tough but crumbly sandstone.

Every day, those gruff old cliffs would face the ocean in a conversation that required a little give and take.

Here, take a few grams of stone in exchange for some salty goodness, to flavour and preserve us in the style we’re accustomed to.

It’s a good match. The majestic oceans are appeased, sharing their power and greatness and there is joy in this interplay of nature. (If you haven’t noticed this for yourself, spend a little more time with the ocean and sit quietly so you can see for yourself).

My connection to the ocean and the mountains are part of the pulse of my life, and after a week spent in Chennai we arrived in steamy Trivandrum before a ninety minute bus ride north to Varkala.

The first encounter I had with Varkala’s great oceanic expanse was by night as I wandered with my roomie towards the cliff top, in search of incense.

Though we couldn’t see too much, the ocean reached for us anyway with Her air kisses, curling tendrils of invitation around our hair, lips and eyes.

We were back the next morning, and every day thereafter. Post-yoga for eating, walking or shopping.

The breeze was always best on the second floor of any restaurant so that was mostly where you’d find me, writing, laughing with friends and eating my fill of momos.

From that vantage point, the ocean’s horizon always looked soft: as if painted in pastels and hand-smudged to enhance the softness further.

The horizon became one of my daily meditations…

How far could I travel into that seamless seam?

What would I find if I ever went all the way?

Could I evaporate myself entirely, and become part of the unseen world?

Could I be the one sending you air kisses and caressing your face with unseen hands?

~ Amanda