I had a moment today in Belize that was pure bliss.
read more ↓My morning began early. Last night we were pounded by rain, so I sat on my balcony and watched for what felt like hours. I’ve got no TV in my room, no radio, and though I could easily turn on my iPod or watch one of the DVDs I brought with me, something about that felt inauthentic. So instead I sat and watched the rainstorm, then tucked myself into bed around 10-ish.
I rolled out around 6:30 and headed downstairs for breakfast, where I was greeted by the staff. The man who picked me up from the airport in Dangriga made a point of welcoming me to what he called “the Hanamasi family,” but I didn’t really realize how seriously they took that welcome. Everyone here knows my name. Everyone here is well aware of my wacky food sensitivities. You might argue that it’s because I’m press, but I’ve watched how they interact with everyone else at the hotel, and it’s no different than the way I’m treated. It does my heart good to know that customer service isn’t dead.
At 8 a.m. I hopped aboard a boat to go snorkeling at the second largest barrier reef. The sky was still slightly grey from last night’s storm, and the seas were slightly choppy. It was annoying me when I tried to breathe, as more than enough salt water made its way down my breathing tube. Couple that with the fact that my brain was going a million miles a minute as I was attempting to focus on spotting parrot fish and rays, and snorkeling was proving to not be as peaceful as I usually find it.
We took a break midway through and stopped at an island for cookies and juice (or in my case, water and fresh fruit thanks to the courteous kitchen staff.) The island would normally be filled with tourists and marine biology students, but it was pretty desolate thanks to it being hurricane season right now. I walked barefoot in the sand and came across the happiest cat I think I’ve ever seen. When I greeted it, it rolled on its back and meowed contentedly, purring like a rusty motor. As I bent down to pet it, I looked off to the side and saw a statue standing under a tree. I was immediately drawn to it, but I couldn’t really see what it was, so I walked closer. It was of a woman wearing a long robe, her hands clasped at her heart, her head bent in prayer.
I crouched to look at it and examined the peaceful look on her face. There wasn’t a furrow in her brow, denoting thought. Her shoulders weren’t tensed. There was just a sense of peace about her, which was something I’ve been desperately searching for for months. My brain has been whirling and spinning the more I work on myself, the more I sift through old behavior and move away from them… and it’s made doing a lot of things a chore. Meditation, sleep, pretty much doing anything but focusing on work has made it yap day and night at me.
For example, when I was snorkeling it decided to sing “Makes Me Wonder” by Maroon 5. And while I love that song, there was no need for me to hear it while I was scouting barracudas. So I asked it to stop, and instead it decided to sing “4 in the Morning” by Gwen Stefani. Again, I asked for silence. Its retort? Cycling between Monty Python’s “Lumberjack Song” and the oldie classic, “Fish Heads.” And while that may have been mildly appropriate considering the fish theme, all I wanted was peace and quiet.
Anyway. So there stood this statue, exemplifying everything I wanted in that moment.
“That’s neat,” said one of my fellow snorkelers.
I nodded.
“Is it made of wood?”
“No,” I told him, running my hand over her head. “I think it’s something more solid. Like stone.”
Something struck me about what I’d said. But I wasn’t quite sure what.
I got back to Hanamasi in time for lunch, got a little work done, then walked out to the end of the pier, where they have two hammocks set up under a thatched roof overlooking the vast expanse of sea. I stretched out in one of the hammocks and closed my eyes, concentrated on the feel of gently swinging, listening to the sound of the ocean beneath me. I could see colors swirling around, I could feel the breeze on my skin. But most of all I felt light. And everything was silent. Even my brain.
Then it started to rain. The sky opened up and pelted everything in its path, but I stayed dry thanks to the thatched roof and decided it was more important to sit there and watch the storm instead of running to my room. I watched the rain jump up and down on the ocean and closed my eyes to listen to it, swinging back and forth, back and forth. And after two hours it let up enough for me to grab my key and head back to my room to retrieve my laptop and do some writing.
There was something about that statue that really resonated with me, and I think it was the combination of solid grace. I’d learned that being strong and standing your ground usually meant some kind of fight, but I’m slowly starting to understand how power and peace can go together. Take ocean waves, for example. They can pack quite a punch, but they do so by undulating and rolling, going with their own flow. The praying statue made me feel the same way watching the ocean did. She stood there solidly within herself, but also in the gracefulness of prayer.
It’s something I aspire to. And I’m certain I’m getting there. Because even as I write this now, I haven’t lost that feeling I had on the pier.
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