Watching The Waves

One morning during our recent "Open Your Heart In Paradise" retreat on the island of Maui, Hawaii, I went to the beach for my morning meditation.  Something happens when I get near the ocean.  I feel as though an ancient and familiar pull draws me closer and closer to the water.  This tug begins before my feet have even landed on the earth, the plane getting closer to the shore and the varied colors of the water can be seen from my window seat. Sparkling aqua light dances where a sandy ocean floor reflects the sun and darker blue where reefs are teeming with life.  I always seem to have the same child-like response looking out of the airplane window, "Hey! Look at the ocean!  We're almost there!"  I can't wait to get my feet wet.


On this particular morning the ocean had a different mood.  The sun hadn't yet come over the horizon so the water was darker.  The beach only had a few people on it, most of whom were seemingly in their own bubble of thought and consciousness, not interacting, just being drawn to the water, perhaps in the same way that I was drawn.


I usually meditate with my eyes closed, yet on this morning it was nearly impossible to not take in the view.  The morning began to unfold in its own perfect awakening, a sublime setting for being fully present.  I sat and watched how the ocean's mood changed.  The waves seemed to be finding their own power and rhythm, coming in groups that seemed to peak in a crescendo of a big wave breaking into a perfectly surfable pipeline.  Then it would subside and become quieter until the next sequence of energy began to build.


As the sun peaked its rays over the horizon, it poked through the spaces between palm fronds and buildings, as though the sun had an intention of just highlighting the most brilliant curling waves.  I began to notice how some waves would break with what looked like white long fingers running out and over the surface until, once again, they melded into the same shade of dark blue.


And throughout this extended wave watching, the sound of the waves ebbing, crashing and rolling back into itself I was always present.  In yoga, Ujjayi breath is often described as a "wave-like" sound on both the inhale and the exhale, yet these waves didn't always have an even pace or intensity of sound. Sometimes it was soft and subtle, others more robust.  The longer I sat, the more I realized how long I had been absorbed in simply being with the ocean, of being fully present to this incredible natural wonder.
Deepak Chopra has said that to connect and ground our energies we can look at open and moving bodies of water; sun and/or star gaze; and walk barefoot on the earth.  It's no wonder that I was completely mesmerized and not wanting to leave these moments.  I felt connected, humble and fully alive, all with the underlying feeling of gratefulness for having such fortune in my life.


In meditation, our thoughts can also reflect the movement of the waves in that they come and they go.  In some moments they're full of power and might pull us under and in other moments they possess a gentle softness.  To recognize the rise and fall of our breath and thoughts is a reflection of the energy of the ocean. If we can simply surrender to it all, perhaps we will awaken that deepest inner connection to self and come to the realization that we are of the same energy...it's all divine.