Contemplative Play

One of my favorite swimming holes in Montana de Oro. The blue-green of the water changes every day. On certain days, I can see clearly, 12 feet below, to the shimmering sand bottom. On other days, the sheen of onyx covets a shark nesting below the surface. I have no way to know if apprehension is the creation of my mind or intuited truth, until a few small fish scurry beneath the surface and relay safety. More recently, I rest my mind on the tide, or stillness, to intuit the welcome of the underworld. I wait for my mind to clear of preconceived thoughts – and Dive! – Breath-stopping cold!  I come out of my daily plunge, and climb her rock, as if I have always been here. Ancient breath, rock, ocean and consciousness. Mind, form, and play…

I first saw these shells placed as if conscientiously where intended by whoever had visited, then saw others scattered upon the rock before I realized not a person but the tide had left them. Serendipitous or otherwise the universe has an uncanny way of creating shifts in the dance of nature. This white shell with her belly to the sun appears quite content on the sun-dried rock.

                                                                                                                                              – Swim to Rock.2.13

– Sandbottom.2.13

Low tide. 5 foot dive starboard. Still didn’t touch bottom!

                                                                                                           – Ritual.2.22.13

                   – Montana de Oro.Eucalyptus.2.13

Passing by the Eucalyptus forest on my bicycle on my way home from swim in ocean pool MdO, I had flashback, San Francisco, 1998. At that time, I commuted everywhere on my bicycle. The beauty of slower methods of transportation is the opportunity to see what would have otherwise been missed. These woods remind me of the frequently unexplored area of inner Golden Gate Park. On one day when I traversed the path rather than the main road, in a center clearing was an elder being video-taped and 5 persons surrounding him. I decided to slow my bike and felt drawn to sit on the edge of the scene. “Who is he?” I asked. “Black Elk,” one woman said, “He’s in the city for an honorarium.” “You!” I heard. Was he was talking to me? He sat in a low chair and patted the ground next to him. He was in a jovial mood and the camera drew back. I stepped in to sit by his lap. “I am going to tell you a story about my grandson,” he said. “One day when I was in our teepee, I heard my daughter’s station-wagon drive up and the door slam. My grandson ran into the teepee and said, ‘Grandpa! I have all of your books! Where shall I put them?” Black Elk said, “In the corner, Grandson!” “But Grandpa! There is no corner!”

AFTERNOON DIVE AND SWIM – A GREAT DAY. 3.31.2013.