Flow

The murmur of crickets and cicadas gently ascended, mounting in volume and verve as birds joined in the morning chorus. Chirps and trills and warbles percolated through the bare morning air. Leaves quivered and dew drops shimmered, casting soft rainbows on the cusp of a fresh day. A gentle onshore breeze blew across the bed, beckoning me to rise. Pulled up by desire rather than duty, I peered over the edge of the open-air mezzanine just as the sun crested the lush ridge on the far side of the valley. 

Thiago glanced over his shoulder, greeting my gaze. “133 degrees southeast,” he remarked. Standing on the eastern most tip of the platform, he noted the sun’s position, the time, the exact coordinates. We planned to do the same at sunset, to observe the sun as it clocked over the land, calculating its directional drift with time. Gradually, we were gaining our bearings here on land. 

After four years at sea, I was relatively resistant to the idea of returning to land. The ocean had enveloped me, entranced my senses, empowered my sensitivities. Out there, in the midst of that which exists behind the veils of azure blue and saline mist, I experienced liberation from materialism, dogmatism, density. I discovered the forces of air, of water, of flow— the fundamental sources of life, of matter, of everything that really, truly matters. The mere thought of moving to land seemed like entertaining a realm that no longer resonated, full of reason that made no sense. I wondered if I’d loose my hard-earned senses, the skills honed by navigating seas, my freedom and faculty to flow. 

Despite resistance, the forces that drive us forward are relentless. Albeit subtle at first, momentum builds, growing in volume and voltage until we hear it, loud and clear. The sooner we recognize it, the sooner we can align with the flow of life that directs us towards our destiny, our evolutionary purpose, or whatever it is that individually inspires us to rise each morning. 

I believe life caters the way she calls to us, sending signals in a language or frequency attuned to our personal receptors. For me, she speaks through the wind, or the waves, or the plants that repeatedly “pop up” along my path. She moves through humans, too. Life finds ways to impregnate words, to infuse song, to charge a conversation. Whatever the form, I recognize her signature by the way it feels in my body, reverberating in the space between my cells like an angel’s song echoing off the effervescent edges of clouds. It’s the ringtone in my left ear when I’m on to something; it’s the uncanny urge to turn right or smile at a stranger; it’s the tingles in my spine that transcend time.

I know by now to listen to these signs. They are the traces of life’s eternal will power, enticing me toward teachable moments, connection points, towards coordinates on Planet Earth that catalyze growth and evolution. I know by now that life is an unfurling experience of beauty, in all her hues of expression and undulating phases of a spiraling upward cycle. I also know by now that the moment I think I know, life has her ways of keeping me in check, on track, and within reason of all due respect. 

So here I sit, on land, besides a river that has swiftly become my new teacher. She’s gentle and generous with her ways, graciously showing me how it’s done— how to flow here on land. I’m learning her tone, her pitch, how to hear her call. She always has something to share when I show up; her wisdoms slide down the smooth rocks in stanzas, easy to decipher and digest in a single visit. Like the sea, she leads by example, demonstrating the qualities necessary to coexist harmoniously within this new territory.  

As wild as life is, I believe it is innately harmonious. She is always seeking homeostasis, to find balance in the ever-changing climate of this Earth, this solar system, this universe. Life has evolved, more or less, forever. And, I reckon, it will continue to do so. She has her ways. So, these days, I’ve found reason here on land that actually makes sense— the most sustainable way of existing is to stop resisting, to invite life to live through me. Be like a river. Let her messages meander their way from source to the sea of humanity. Because, as she’s teaching me, we all flourish when life flows. 

“275 degrees. Almost due west,” I stated out loud to myself, jotting down the data in my journal. The sun was still a few fingers shy of setting upon the ridge. A cooling wind whirled through the valley, rustling the banana leaves to my left before sailing across the surface of my salty skin. Above me, birds bounced from branch to branch, riding the last rays of daylight. Below me, Thiago’s laugher skimmed over the surface of sweet river water, echoing up the hill to where I stood. A smile spread across my heart. Jumping from my perch on the platform, I started running in his direction, pulled by desire rather than duty, heeding life’s call.