I am inspired to share this piece from the chapter Brisbane January 2011 page 61. I was near the water yesterday & somehow I remembered the time in Brisbane with my girl friends.The sensation of the water so deep that I so wanted to share the beauty, the love of the ocean & the shore. Hope you all like it.
The day on the beach with the girls, I felt another kind of sensation.
Each wave and sound was the same, yet so different today. They
were rambling with the same notorious sound, as gregarious as the
sea could be. What I forgot to see was the softness of the water when
it approached the shore.
The ocean was inviting me, as if it had a story to tell—a story of
passion so deep. I saw the waves slowly, one by one, reaching the
shore and pulling back, trying to reach the sand and engulf it in its
fury, but somehow it withdrew. I realized that I was standing between
two lovers and secretly watching their lovemaking.
Every time the water touched my bare feet, it invited me to
embrace its wild tempestuousness. Every moment of this lovemaking
brought me to life; the tingling sensation of this surreal love reached
every part of my body and left me gasping for more.
I took a closer look and closed my eyes to listen to the two lovers,
trying to listen carefully to what they were saying to each other. Each
time the waves hit the shore, the shore acted shy and scared of the
wave’s abundance love, trying to let go as if it could not respond to the
affection of the waves.
The waves slowly realized this, and they scorned the rejection,
not trying to penetrate deep inside; in fact, they moaned out of rejection
and went back to the sea before trying to return again to persuade
their lost love. If left behind the sunken sand, which left an impression
of every love bite that the wave had to offer, reminding the shore
that it would be back again to engulf it, to torment it, and to taunt it
This sand is a warning that sooner or later, if it fails to obey, to
surrender, to this adoration, it will come back with force. Love cannot
be forced, but then so deep is the wave’s love for the shore, and viceversa,
that one day, the wave will return with the ocean. It will return
with an apocalypse so catastrophic that no one will be able to stop
them. The shore will not care anymore. It will honor the ocean’s fury
and will allow it to take everything that comes between the two.
The forbidden lust will then be the forever love. It will be forever
found, and no one will dare to disturb this union. I stood and witnessed
nature’s spectacular love scene, the invisible threat, leaving my
own footprints on the sand. I embraced the kisses of the waves as they
silently kissed my feet, inviting me to feel the vibration of this erotic
tale. I tried not to disturb this, but how could I not?
That day on the beach, I understood what I had failed to understand
in Melbourne; I was trying to serenade my own name upon this
love, and who would accept such irrational behavior without first
understanding such a deep, meaningful passion? I was now able to
speak to the waves and the sand and to understand their love story
because my heart was open and my mind was clear. Henceforth, I
could embrace their erotic invitation, which has been going on since
It was telling me again and again to be a part of this romance, to
feel each and every embrace, every love bite that the wave offered the
shore. The deeper the wave sunk into the shore, the deeper my feet
sunk into the sand, kissing me and taunting me, reminding me that
love shall return. It does not end; it is just the beginning.
On our way to the airport, the mood was somber. The girls were
quiet. Brisbane was waking up to a rainy morning. From the window
of Angie’s car, I could see that dawn would be upon us soon. Far
across the horizon, the sun was slowly breaking and giving light to
darkness. Not a word was spoken in the car, as we realized that we
were somewhat sad. I was sad to be leaving behind Angie; Brisbane;
our scandalous loitering across the clubs of Brisbane; the party;
Angie’s apartment, which thrived with our every move; and the love
story between the wave and the shore. With all of that, I was also leaving
behind a part of myself. I will come back one day to reclaim it, I
thought. Could I come back to claim that which I was leaving behind
knowingly, though? I could only come back to relive it, to relinquish
it, and perhaps to tell my own story to the ocean and the shore. Perhaps
I understood the empathy that ran so deeply between the two. I
knew that if I came back to tell my tales, they would be patient and
hear me because what they had shared with me was their little secret.
There was no end to it; it was only the start of an infinite truth that I
was grateful to witness through my blessed eyes. Beneath the ocean
are buried many ships, many towns, and many civilizations of the
human race. As each gets buried, new ones unfold and give birth to
something new and unique. My journey ahead is somewhat like that;
it is not one of retribution, penitence, or repentance, but one of reincarnation
with the same soul and the same body.
I was not scared anymore, as I had nothing to lose. What I had
lost was important, but to be uncertain of the future and what more
could be gained is priceless.