Whenever I catch my first glimpse of the sea and the island shaped like ET I am reminded of the words to a song that Miranda’s mother used to sing to her and her sister on their approach… “I can see the sea, it is a lovely blue…”
Distant and removed from that place, I sway in my seat, weaving through the imaginary turns of the imaginary corners of the road imprinted in my mind. This blue evokes something in me, it calls to me, reels me in. I see it and feel like I have returned home. Dwelling 4000 kilometers away I yearn to see this blue, anticipate it appearing on the horizon after each familiar turn in the winding road.
What happens when we are called to be with and cannot be there? Can I still be with this place in an imaginary? There must be a place inside of me where I can crawl up into a ball and be with the blue sea. Today I feel a deep longing for that.
The grevillea outside my window soothes me in its afternoon glow, but it also reminds me of where I am and it illuminates the distinction between here and there. Can I be in both?
When I stand on this beach (it faces the head of the island shaped like a sleeping ET) and look at the big and little mountains, I feel a welling-up inside of something big. A big feeling like a creative blurrrrgghhhh that just rises up from somewhere (maybe the wet sand), through my feet and goes ‘bang!’ when it reaches my heart. Words pour out – poetry and song – like some ecstatic frenzy. At times like that I am present, but reminded of Rumi and what he must have felt like when he was connecting with a bigger source of love and creativity. I want to be in this place today… Listening to what is seeking to emerge. Not waiting, just ready for it to come and flow through me.
I close my eyes and invoke being with this place, the big mountain and the little mountain there beyond the expanse of sandy beach.