In this post I am going to make a clumsy attempt to describe something
that defies description-
a magical moment in my life (in our lives)
that was a gift from our friends in Waimea
a sick baby
and the rigors of getting a family of four into a harbor, a boat
and then back home -
we cannot thank you enough, dearest Jenni and Miro -
To be clear, this was not a cakewalk as far as miracles go:
I spent the better part of the journey with my head over the side of the boat,
giving the Pacific my breakfast
and when that was all gone,
foam and saliva.
Having just seen what I'd seen, experienced what I'd experienced I did not mourn my food or my dignity:
I simply laid my hands and head on the 'My Jenni' and watched the flying fish
leaping and traveling
in a state of such utter surrender
that I could practically feel the warmth of God's palm.
From the beginning:
We traveled by boat from Kona southbound
until we saw them in the surf:
a pod of about 50 dolphins
with babies in tow
northbound in their travels.
Miro put the boat in neutral
and we donned masks and fins,
slipping off the back of the craft into the warm water
some 40-80 feet deep.
My heart was on fire
my breathing was ragged and a fear of deep water that has plagued me since childhood was ripe;
I all but missed the sight of the dolphins swimming close to us,
save for a few
that moved to my right.
We moved on, more streamlined in our process;
less fear this time
perfectly placed ahead of the pod
I saw them, so close -
underneath us, to each side:
they scanned me with their sonars
and seemed curious and close
With my head above water to find the boat
I saw them leaping and splashing in the waves
and a return to the mask
found them still coming:
still passing, still magic.
I swam sideways to watch them
and I thanked them silently with all my might for the visit
so few get to have in the wild.
Back on the boat, the above nausea took over.
I think almost more than the waves
it was the intensity of the experience
that laid me low...
for the rest of this day I've been
in utter surrender,
quietly watching the scenery pass.
Letting tears come at times,
I lean in as Hawaii pulls them from me
soft and slow like a river.