Sometimes someone would speak in a boat. But most of the boats were silent except for the dip of the oars. They spread apart after they were out of the mouth of the harbour and each one headed for the part of the ocean where he hoped to find fish. The old man knew he was going far out and he left the smell of the land behind and rowed out into the clean early morning smell of the ocean. He saw the phosphorescence of the Gulf weed in the water as he rowed over the part of the ocean that the fishermen called the great well because there was a sudden deep of seven hundred fathoms where all sorts of fish congregated because of the swirl the current made against the steep walls of the floor of the ocean. Here there were concentrations of shrimp and bait fish and sometimes schools of squid in the deepest holes and these rose close to the surface at night where all the wandering fish fed on them.
In the dark the old man could feel the morning coming and as he rowed he heard the trembling sound as flying fish left the water and the hissing that their stiff set wings made as they soared away in the darkness. He was very fond of flying fish as they were his principal friends on the ocean. He was sorry for the birds, especially the small delicate dark terns that were always flying and looking and almost never finding, and he thought, "The birds have a harder life than we do except for the robber birds and the heavy strong ones. Why did they make birds so delicate and fine as those sea swallows when the ocean can be so cruel? She is kind and very beautiful. But she can be so cruel and it comes so suddenly and such birds that fly, dipping and hunting, with their small sad voices are made too delicately for the sea."
Reading this passage, you can tell that Santiago has made this journey many, many times. He knows when the sea deepens. Knows the shrimp and bait fish that swarm below him. And the tentacled schools of squid. Flying fish and sea sparrows. Santiago is used to the delicate balance of beauty and danger that surrounds him. He respects it.
I think most of the world is like this. We just don't pay that much attention to day-to-day beauty and instead spend most of our time trying to avoid danger. My life would be so much better if I scheduled beauty breaks every day. Literally block off 20 minutes or an hour where all I do is find something beautiful in the world and admire it. Think about that.
I spent a good portion of this weekend worrying over a particular problem. Lost sleep over it. Woke up thinking about it. This issue was a constant, menacing presence in the deep waters below me. A shadow shark. At about ten o'clock this morning, that shark swam away without striking. As I watched that dorsal fin disappear into the horizon, I realized how much time I wasted Friday, Saturday, and Sunday just focusing on my fear. So much stress.
What if, instead of obsessing about that shark, I had taken beauty breaks instead? Gone out into my backyard and smelled the blooming lilacs. Taken my puppy for a walk in the forest. Driven to Lake Superior and listened to waves. Or picked up a book of poems and just read for an hour. If I had done any of those things, my weekend would have been so much better.
That is my goal for tomorrow: to take a couple beauty breaks during the day. I will stop and do something that reminds me of all the small miracles that surround me. I work in a library, for God's sake. There are shelves and shelves of miracles just outside my office door.
Saint Marty just needs to open that door and look around..
No comments:
Post a Comment