Messy Waves

Perched some distance from the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea,

Blocked by a messy marketplace of coconut, guava, sea grapes, and some unrecognizable trees,

I tempered my raging anger towards the trees for obstructing my long anticipated view of the resplendent Caribbean Sea.

Then an idea interfered with my mindful moment, “Close your eyes, listen to the boisterous sea that you cannot see.”

Entering the moccasins of a blind person, I disciplined my eyes and mind, and gave permission for my hearing apparatus to engage itself.

The twins of indiscipline and unmindfulness refused to be tamed, resulting in a fierce struggle to open my eyes and problem solve. “Move to another location to see the sea.”  

But sister resistance befriended me, and I stood my ground.

I listened, listened, listened.

Listened to roaring, bellowing, thunderous sounds of crashing waves.

Having nowhere to lay its head than the welcoming coastline.

My imagination woke up.

Needing no encouragement to throw away the blanket of early morning lethargy.

She instantly started to work and allowed me to see, with the eyes of the ear, the uncontrollable, disordered, chaotic, and rumbling waves running like a dog to attack the coastline. 

Creating a messy beach of garbage, thickets, oil residues, plastic bottles and bags, and logs.

My mind imprisoned this picture without allowing for bail.

It stayed incarcerated until freed by the alarm of my phone.

Thanks, sister imagination, for the gift of the metaphor of the MESSY WAVES.