“The Secret Spot” for quiet meditation

It’s not everyday that you find yourself alone on a placid beach, sunning on a rock, remembering the joys and sorrows of life with a deep inner gratitude, slowly and naturally setting into meditation. With nothing to do, nothing to prove, as you are not a deep sea diver or a survivor of a television adventure series or a wilderness explorer examining the fossilized rock and flora for old life, new life, or life unknown. There is no time, no desire to analyze, only you and the elements of nature in a constant process of chemical change.

As you sit on this black rock with dry white tube-like shells at your toes, once the homes of crabs and sea urchins, and look out to a beach with moss covered rock formations, miles of sand, and palm trees in both directions, the waves of the mind, the distinctive thoughts patterns, plans, and calculations of future slowly wind down and are stilled at last by the sensation of balmy breeze running through your salty hair. You become aware of the persistent sun barrelling through a deep grey cloud, this whitish round circle spilling warm rays onto the tops of your neck and shoulders. It’s not everyday that relaxation is your natural state of being.

Once a month I visit this magical place entitled the “secret spot” on the Northern coast of Puerto Rico, and each time I am surprised by how quickly nature changes. Each time the colors of the water, sand, rocks, and shells are different with barely any humans to witness it the changes.

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.