Intention

I loved the plants that tumbled and swirled throughout Esalen. Our teacher, Eric Moya, pointed out how, as humans, we don't have roots or chlorophyll to keep us alive, we gain life from movement. Anything that makes it harder to move, makes it harder to stay alive. We don't grow old, we just stop moving.

He also talked about when something is at the edge of your skill set it can seem magical or mystical or impossible. Then you get on the learning curve, struggle for a bit, and once you learn it, what once seemed magical and mystical becomes your new normal.

I loved to get up early, sit with a cup of green tea, and watch the morning sun rise on the ocean. Every time I scanned the sea, I hoped for a dolphin or porpoise or seal, but I never saw one. The day before, in class, we talked about intention. It always seemed too simple to me, intention, and often got resistance from that Archie Bunker voice in my mind. But more and more I've been discovering that the more simple it is, the more effective it is, and in the work I do, I'm in awe of the huge shifts that come from subtle movement. 

So, one morning I sat at the edge of the sea and playfully set the intention to see a dolphin. Within seconds a fin poked out of water. And then it happened again. Altogether seven blue fins arched in and out of the shimmering pink water. A pod of dolphins swam by right in front of me, as if to say, ha ha, and yes, and welcome to your new normal.