An Attempt

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

despite

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 -

ever.

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.

Empty.

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;

neutral

flippers

less fear this time

perfectly placed ahead of the pod

and

friends:

I saw them, so close -

underneath us, to each side:

they scanned me with their sonars

and seemed curious and close

and many.

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:

big

small

close

far

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.

xoxox,

Sunny