Last month the water was a clear blue and holes had created little whirlpools to rest in, while admiring every color of minuscule shells, striped and speckled so intricately designed, millions, in a few square foot platform of sand. Last month I came with a small group of students and we basked here with little to say to one another. Now after the unseasonable rains this month, the water is more like a lake and the tides receding reveal mossy stones where there were bright shells, now a glossy emerald hue.
The walk to get here through the narrow path of bushes and taller grasses was a greater adventure this time, as the rains had fed the wildlife. With each step, a crab or lizard scampered out of the path. I met a fisherman along the way who said that these violet and light green berries can be eaten, skin and all; and I imagined a life of living off of this mild fleshy fruit, fallen coconuts, and shell fish, making a home of dried palms or perhaps taking shelter where I’ve seen hundreds of swallows retire at sunset in the holes of a little natural cave in a cove off this beach.
What if there was nothing left to do but live, unknown by any man, let time melt away, and simple enlightenment dawn?
(Come feel the healing vibrations of the secret spot: