Moving Boundaries

 

Tidal pools are the most wonderful places along the cape shoreline.

A wall protects the pool from the sometimes-violent waves. At high tide it fills up with fresh water.

It creates a safe space in which I can experience the action of the sea without too much danger.

In a way it acts like a filter keeping the strongest movements and currents out of the pool but still allowing enough movement to float and bob around.

This kind of wall however is static. It always acts and filters out and breaks the highs and lows of the Ocean.

In our mind we have a multitude of filters. They are made up from our conditioning, both inherited and learned. Conditionings are useful protection devices to help us survive and navigate through life.

Lately I have started to swim in the open water at Backoven in Camps Bay.

It is remarkably interesting that in this environment I must set my own boundaries:

How long is it safe to stay in the cold water? What are the currents and how strong am I? How far can I go out? Can I cope with the wave action and what is my survival strategy, can I hold on to something should I need to? Is someone around to help if I get into trouble?

I must constantly monitor and set my boundaries and as my adaptation and fitness increases, I can move them and expand the range of my experience in the water.

Swimming in the sea, in the tidal pool and in the open water are a metaphor for navigating life.

Feeling fully alive by constantly expanding the range of experiences requires to question and if necessary, to step out of my conditioning, which was helpful in the past, consciously.

 

Between Desire and Release

 

The spring and flower season is short in the Western Cape of South Africa.

A few hot days and the bright and colorful flowers are gone. They vanished virtually overnight.

The burning bright desire in the fireworks of color turns into an abundance of seeds.

The curtain has fallen on the carnival show which attracted the pollinators.

But hidden in the grass the seeds are ready to fly into the unknown.

The dried-out heads can no longer hold them. They must let go.

They must release them and hand them over to the winds blowing at the beginning of summer.

Observing this, I can feel the energy between desire and release and the trust that new life will be born.

 

Stillpoint

 

I am standing in a stream and I can see the water rushing towards me.

Turning around it gushes away from me quickly.

Here I am in the stillpoint between future and past. 

From this point I can see in both directions.

Seeing is an extraordinarily complex process in our brain.

We are actually seeing very little. 

Most of the image gets created from patterns stored and recognized in our memory which fits the information received on our retina.

This still point between future and past is a fiction created in my mind.

The water is gushing at high speed. 

There are uncountable vibrations, waves, and patterns. 

The world around me is absolute chaos. 

My brain and mind are an amazing tool to navigate me through this. 

It gives me the ability to stay alive and feel the universe pumping.

 

Wild Swimming

 

Even in winter I like to swim in the sea. 

My favorite place is the Dalebrook tidal pool.

After the latest cold front, the ocean is furious with rage.

The big sea monster is relentlessly rolling over the wall at the edge of the pool. 

With its mouth full of foam, the beast crashes into the tiny enclosure. 

Chaos washes over my head and I paddle to stay straight and not lose orientation. 

Upside becomes downside, as I bob around between the uprooted kelp, rocks, and the wall.

And with a giant slurp the monster sucks the wave back into it's mouth. Just enough time to take a breath and swim against the strong outward flow.

Before I reach the wall the monster spits out another blast of foam washing me back.

It feels so good to be alive and strong. 

There is no fear only deep respect. 

I know the violent force of this monster can overpower me when I fight against it. 

For me its: Go with the flow, stay orientated and swim only to keep myself inside the pool.

And in this wonderful wild dance of life I become part of the sea monster myself.

The Origin of the World

There is a famous painting by Gustave Courbet named “The Origin of the World” depicting the yoni and body of a beautiful woman.

When I started working on this image of a flower, I immediately was drawn to this origin.

This flower makes the same idea visible; it emanates the origin of the world.

But isn’t our normal western view the other way around?

The world brings about life in a most intricate way from a big bang to aggregates of atoms into a soup of an early ocean on our planet, out of which all life is born. 

This life evolves into a multitude of forms: Flowers, bodies, and animals.

Courbet had a different idea. For him, the origin of the whole world could be seen in the feminine. 

The feminine is that what creates and gives birth to everything.

The feminine showing up in this flower, radiates and vibrates the desire to unfold and expand.

It shows up as pure “Lebenslust”: The desire and joy to live. 

Its an indestructible all permeating energy. It will never be lost, only transform through death into new life.

And for me, this energy comes first. 

This vibration is the origin of the world, out of which all manifests into our reality.

Immersion into the Whole

I love to swim in the tidal pools along the False Bay coast, even in winter.

The Glencairn pool has a soft sandy floor and is very shallow at the one side and deep at the far end.

It is a special meditation to walk in slowly and feel everything.

This early Sunday morning, just after sunrise, its surface is like a mirror and the water is crystal clear.

I am standing still in the deep and look out to the calm sea. Consciously breathing in and breathing out fully is the only movement of my body.

After a short while the water does not feel cold anymore. My skin seems to melt, and I lose my boundary. 

The sea and I become one. Gentle waves rolling on to the wall of the pool, are moving with my breath.

The warmth of my body dissipates in the whole of the ocean. Deep inside I know that my life-force, the aliveness of my body, my energy will never be lost.

It becomes part of the ocean; part of this planet and I am a part of this universe.

How come I normally feel separated from this wholeness?

When I begin to swim through the pool my movement disturbs the layer of warmed up water around my arms. Like in a mystery I feel my hands and my muscles taking shape.

The nerve endings of my body hair sense the movement of the water. I become me again.

All the sensations running through to the brain create my physical body and I feel it all in wonderment.

 

Sunset Love

Every minute the sun is setting somewhere over our planet, painting the sky.

Where there is an open space, people tend to gather to watch this spectacle unfold.

They are fascinated by the subtle changes in colour created by the sun and clouds on this gigantic canvas.

Sunset and sunrise are an important part of our world and mythology.

At the same time, they are one big illusion, a mirage from light and water vapor, a fiction our mind makes from the sensory input of the eyes.

There is nothing solid in this ever-changing sky.  

Is it real?  

Yes, it is born anew from the vibration of light interacting with the moving vapors in every minute.

It is the same with the world we live in. We sense movements and vibrations. 

We sense the energy around us and moving through us.

Our so solid world is created through sensing and computing in our body and inside of our heads. 

Our mind constantly paints a picture of solidity and plausibility.

However, there is an interaction between the chaos of vibrations and our mind. 

Our senses are touched. They are touched by the Eros of the universe. 

From this caressing, from this loving touch, everything is born.

Watching a sunset is like watching this act of love. 

Maybe that is why we are so fascinated by it, again and again.