For the second morning in a row three dolphin have come by at sunrise, just as I walked out to the water’s edge with my cup of tea. As they arc along parallel to the shore at walking pace I follow, as if attached to them with a long leash. Did they come because I called; did I come because they called; or is it mere coincidence?
In any case, they make me happy. I come to this spectacular beach in Sanibel, Florida every year for a staff retreat. I’ve been missing the dolphins. A few years ago I had a spectacular encounter with many dolphins that opened my heart in a new way to the natural world and the presence of Spirit in it.
For a while after that, when I was at beaches, dolphins seemed to come when I wished them to show up, for other people as well as myself. Then, in the now-you-see-it-now-you-don’t nature of miraculous encounters, they stopped. No dolphins at all for the last two years. But this year, dolphins again for everybody.
You have to be looking. This morning I passed a few other early morning walkers, joggers, dog walkers, and shell collectors. None of them followed my gaze out to sea. Maybe dolphins are no big deal.
But everything here is a big deal to me: the heavy pelicans that skim by as I swim in the cool Gulf, the sanderlings that skitter at the water’s edge, the stars and planets hanging like jewels in the night sky, hashing out the problems of the world under the palms, with my beloved colleagues.
I made a little video tribute to our work, my first e-movie ever.
I am having trouble taking anything very seriously. After all these years of working on serious, serious stuff, all I want to do is play. Watch pelicans wheeling and diving. And be walked by dolphins.
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