Notes from the Baja desert 2014. First three weeks of January. Waiting for the wind to blow, waiting for the wind. Staying out of the morass of complaint pretty well, reading and studying a little while I wait. NY Times top 100, Goldfinch, couldn't stop reading long enough to paddle or kayak. It was one of those books that grabs and will not let go until the denouement! And Dante, whom I've never read, even though I'd like to pretend, and am pouring over the notes in back to make the connections, and also editing my own ruminations on Ignatius, trying out picutres to go with the writings, heavy self-judgement in my head as I read....and waiting, waiting for the wind that is so much a part of our Baja experience each year.
Another windsurfing buddy died, not on the beach, but on his way home. When we heard the news, this time I didn't hesitate to make the invitation to all sitting around after the day of sand and sun, to raise our glasses to the tune of auld Lang Syne. "Should auld acquaintance be forgot..." and afterward Stuart reminded me that I didn't know the correct words which he proved by producing his Robbie Burns book of poems and songs from the cavern of his trailer, and in his clipped Scottish brogue began to sing all the verses, and the full chorus each time it came round.
"Waiting" took us to the waters below the old vacant Hotel at Bahia de Los Muertos (now renamed de La Suenos...dead, dreams, go figure), where I spooled into the pristine waters on white sands, to swim with schools of Tangs and Moorish Idols, Butterfly fish, and Puffers. Lying on the sand below my topsy turvey entrance a team of fisherpeople were gutting small sharks they had caught just off shore, so that caution dogged me whenever I saw a peripheral shadow. In comparison to the Pacific, the Cortez waters are yummy, not warm so much as lusciously pleasing and welcoming. It feels good, even with a 4.3 wetsuit on.
"Waiting," is the operative words for Advent we know, however revelation and surprise tend to belong to the season of Epiphany. Yet, "enough" is the word that dominated the Fall season. It all began with the question the disciples asked Jesus about having enough faith. And Jesus told them story after story about having "enough." A poppy seed of faith is enough. A crooked judge has enough "rightness" to judge correctly. A haranguing badgering widow hangs on just enough. A self-righteous Pharisee and a self-deprecating beggar both harsh, extreme examples of prayer...Jesus tells us it's all enough, all good. We'll find our way through in the least with just a poppy seed full.
The El Norte arrived yesterday, waves twelve feet high so that only the best of the best could windsurf. Static energy, people on tippy toes watching those doing 360's off the waves. It's here, and more scary than "enough." I chuckle to myself, to God, and to the Universe, and whisper "sorry" as I head into the waves.