My last post was a beginning of sorts with my decision to cruise on the Ovation of the Seas. Embarking in Sydney, Australia, to cruise through the Tasman Sea and the South Pacific Ocean, above and below the Tropic of Capricorn, I feel comforting reassurance after receiving a welcoming hug on board.
Blissfully unaware of the consequences, this particular choice begins an unexpected and unprecedented awakening of emotional seas swelling with transformative power to leave me reeling and wobbling with metaphoric sea legs long after disembarking. It seems naturally inherent in remembering November 2019, and three weeks of cruising, my thoughts would explore deep waters wherein its abyss, my mind and heart drop anchor, tethered together. Now I must trust the proportional relationship between my anchor and rode (cable attached to the anchor) enough for me to write the thoughts of my heart. In doing so, I feel obliged to warn you. These waters are beautiful and hazardous with the power to drag me down, crash me pounding into rocks, or allow my buoyancy to keep more than my head above water, and enjoy cruising where I have never gone before.
Sufficiently instructed in lifesaving protocols and procedures before departing the pier, as per regulations, I proceed to deck 15 to observe the fading skyline as the captain expertly takes the ship out of its berthing place into open waters.
Water is such an integral and vital component of my life that thrills me in all its capacities, filling my soul with incredible panoramic contemplation, a virtual diorama of expressive words jostling for attention. I seek, search, find, and treasure the adjectives and harmony of sounds playing rhythms among their whispering enticements to my romantic, soulful heart in the reflections I see. Though they appear upside down, elongated, or distorted by rippling waters, I recognize the impact that desire and perspective exert upon the binding force fastening me to landscapes. Raw expressionism exhibits itself in nature, as witnessed through the naked eye, beholden to creation in its glorious cloaks. Camera attempts to capture magnificence pale in comparison to the photographic imprints saturating my open, accepting heart with sightseeing memories. Personal interpretation, intensity, vibrancy, distance, and emotional connectivity to a place and time closely simulate their collective, stimulating power on my individual experience through pulsating senses of remembrance.
Two days in the blustering Tasman Sea brings me to the southwestern shores of New Zealand, where sheltering mountains loom high above the ship bearing straight into sinewy-like passageways of Fiordland National Park, carved by glaciers of ages past. The introvert I have always known as myself usually finds comfort in moments of solitude, observing my environment, emptying my mind of distractions, and listening to melodic sounds dancing in my soul. “It would be so wonderful to share this time with a special someone,” I moan silently, wishing he could join me. My heartstrings begin a lonely rendition of sorrowful longing in a symphony for one all alone among hand-holding couples, families, and friends huddling together. I feel pressure from my head coursing down my spine into my lower extremities, sparking electrical currents tingling my eyes. Turning my head, I set my watchfulness on each of the Sounds as they intimately whisper into my waiting ear, as gently as soft, sweet kisses brushing across my cheek. To the language of waterfalls, rain, drizzle, and mists in New Zealand’s spectacular wonderland, I listen and move. Figuratively snuggling to feel the wrapping, comforting mantle rest upon my shoulders that protects me in a harbour of secret communications, I see myself led and held in His hands. I feel at peace, one in a sea of strangers.
Maneuvering around people to capture every detail by carefully hustling across deck 15, wet from intermittent rain and drizzle, I meander in silent wonder. Where is the best view? Starboard or port, which way should I go? Back and forth, up and down, around and across my feet tread, my eyes flit like excited fireflies dancing in the dark, and I sigh contentedly.
Feeling the cooling brushstrokes of the Master painter across the canvas of my face, with a fine layer of semi-transparent greyish white wetness, I ignore the dampness. Mist enshrouded pinnacles rise high above and on either side of the Ovation of the Seas. Sensing my insignificance under towering, majestic beauties surrounding me, I feel a gentle rebuking nudging me to focus, ponder, and listen with all that is in me. My eyes seek to touch each awe-inspiring cascading streams plunging from veiled vegetation-covered and rock-faced mountainsides into oneness with the receiving waters.
Hearkening, I hear the voice of water beckoning submersion and mountains calling my name. My soul reaches to explore beyond visible space, to climb mountains, and soar under the clouds drifting across the expanse of the firmament. Whistling a siren’s tune, I recognize a hauntingly sublime refrain quietly orchestrated, emanating from a hidden source of life behind cascading waterfalls. Every droplet of moisture settling on my glasses becomes a note in a musical production written for me. I stand still, abiding timeless stanzas before offering an unseen ovation. Awestruck before such immensely serene vistas, as if slowly drifting into a fantasy world, I gaze through the tear-shaped beads of moisture fogging my mind, dripping into my heart. Pulling up my hood and cleaning the lenses (pretty much covered in raindrops), perception and perspective affect my wakeful experience. The ship stays its course, adjusting as necessary, reversing, and turning in tight channels. It is here, cruising through Milford, Dusky, and Doubtful Sound, I first fully consider the power water and mountains wield upon me and how much I love to live in submission to their influential teachings. I am not insignificant. I have importance and value in the incredible voyage I am continually living; life.
Unbelievable beauty, peace, tranquility, and grateful amazement reverses the cynicism of time, restoring youthful ebullience and buoyancy to my countenance in moments that count time well-spent. Awakening to a renewed sense of oneself when communing with the elements of nature creates rippling effects, just as a pebble gently cast into water spreads circular, outspreading motions or a giant ship leaving a trail in its wake. Water and mountains cradle my body, mind, and spirit in a hallowed sanctuary of divinely appointed natural realms for understanding myself and the world around me. I look behind and ahead. I am ready for this great adventure New Zealand and the Ovation of the Seas offers me, or so I think. (and the story continues . . .)
Having heard the Sounds call, sing, whisper, and speak a language of consoling, uplifting encouragement, I contemplate.
When, where, how, and what sounds do you hear?
What helps you to move forward and feel refreshing assurances?
Life Happens . . . so do Sounds
