Photo by Emily O'Dell
Show me the way to the Ocean!
Break these half-measures,
these snall containers.
All this fantasy and grief.
Let my house be drowned in the wave
that rose last night out of the courtyard
hidden in the center of my chest.
— Rumi
“Why aren’t you at the beach?” my colleague said on Friday, as I was running in the opposite direction to get my computer fixed.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I said–taking care of some business, before heading off to the sea.
You know it’s a healthy work environment when the question asked is “why aren’t you at the beach”–instead of “why aren’t you in your office?” It’s more fun to compare turtle tallies, than play petty power games–especially with such low stakes. Good work tends to flow from being relaxed–and in Beirut, swimming in the sea is a great way to do that…
Last night, when I was taking my daily swim in the sea, everyone passing me in the water kept singing different versions of the same refrain.
“This is magical,” said one.
“Paradise–ecstasy!” said another.
With so many schools of fish whirling around their seafloor abodes, and the sunset putting on one of its best shows–I was torn between spending my time underwater, or floating on the sea’s smooth surface to watch the sky.
From a favorable current, the water was unusually clear. Each time I rose for a breath of air–traveling between the two worlds–the sounds of an old man on the Corniche plucking the soulful strings of his oud–serenaded my steady strokes towards the sun. What a surprise it was then when I turned around and saw the rising of the fluorescent moon. Just as the lifeguard was about to blow his whistle to call us back to shore, the evening call to prayer began emanating from the minaret on the mosque down the street…with such beauty before us in all directions, it was only natural to feel so complete…
Photo by Robert O'Dell
