Why “Calm Beneath?”
“In the deep, I discovered myself. Not me, my body. The me inside my body. I found my calm beneath in the depths of the sea.” - Lisa
When I was a girl, I was blessed to live near the beach in the summertime. It was one of those idyllic childhoods you read about in books. My timeless routine was spun in saltwater- boating, swimming, crabbing, beachcombing, or simply sprawling in the sand while seagulls played nearby with the splashing waves. My wardrobe basically consisted of bathing suits and flip-flops, and a sweet bloom of freckles bridging my nose. Even the nights felt easy, the damp salt air settling like a blanket while moonlight danced on the pond, and the rhythmic lapping of water lulled me into peaceful slumber. Each magnificent day was a carbon copy of the one before. “Endless summer” was my way of life, and now I see it for the privilege it was.
Occasionally the days churned a little more on the adventurous side. A chance to escape the rules of the land, and the parents! My older sister would take us and some friends in a small speedboat out into the ocean. The thrill of navigating the breachway was heightened when wave swells collided with one another at the mouth of the channel where the ocean refused to be tamed. I can still remember what it felt like to be precariously perched on my seat with my own white knuckles as my lone tether, fingers braided tightly around the chrome handle. And the ocean’s might easily launching us into the sun, and spraying our faces with its briny laughter.
Once beyond that tumultuous welcome mat we’d point to the horizon, and our fiberglass chariot carried us over rolling waves to the great beyond. To me, it was a type of euphoria, the wind in my face, and the vibrations of the motor humming beneath my seat. We coasted up and over the ocean hills with breathtaking excitement. When we cruised out a fair distance, far away from the shoreline yet still visible as our compass, my sister would cut the engine. Drifting was so peaceful. Lying back, I’d stare up at the massive blue sky and listen to the water sloshing under the hull. Eventually we’d get hot and decide to swim. This is the part that was truly magical.
In the deep, I discovered myself. Not me, my body. The me inside my body. I found my calm beneath in the depths of the sea. Jumping off the side of the boat, I’d maintain the rigid straightness of an arrow, and slip effortlessly down down down as far as possible, toes pointed like a dancer, hoping, but not really believing I could touch the very bottom of my beloved Atlantic. That space of suspended time between sink and rise, that was where the magic lived. Everything was silent and I was hyper aware of the stillness in my ears and of my own heartbeat, and then I’d recall my next breath and in a rush, the sinking turned to rising again. Eyes wide open, I’d look up to search for the sunlight beckoning me back to the surface through the prism of a green glass filter. It was a dazzling sight that simultaneously soaked me in power and serenity. In thinking of it now, that “calm beneath” was a timeless metaphor for Now.
What a dream it all was, so long ago that I question if it even happened to me at all. I know that after a lifetime of trials and errors, of celebrations and sorrows, I can still recall what calm is supposed to feel like and I can travel to a place in my mind as a touchstone for what I seek through meditation.
I have learned so much on my personal journey called life, and as I write this from the perspective of decades later, I want to share my lessons, cushioned with the purest of energy and love to light the way. I only wish to bless everyone who crosses this page with the most heartfelt encouragement to recall your own calm beneath.
