I am on the Island of Bimini in the Bahamas, participating in a breath meditation workshop. We gather in the large white room, sitting on top of yoga mats, and an ancient voice guides the breathing exercises. In through the nose – sometimes fast – sometimes slow – and now angry breaths – and now graceful breaths. Each breath relates to time, feeling, and emotion. We are tired and fatigued – and alive – and dizzy. Forty-five minutes become one hour, and I am exhausted. I lie back on my yoga mat, and my body feels light – so light it can be carried by the wind – by the graceful waves. I remain still. I can hear my body and feel it function. I feel strong and alive. It is hard to leave this space, as I do.
I am overwhelmed with the vast green and blue sea. A multitude of colors – of hues – engulfs me. The roaring waves allow me to feel insignificant in some ways. They demand more of a presence than I am as I – quiet, barefoot and of golden brown flesh – take light steps around the balcony. Stuck small grains of sand separate my feet from the concrete. The day holds many opportunities – kayaking, canoeing, boat adventures. The day holds conversations at breakfast with friends – some whom I have known for quite some time and others whom I have just recently met. I feel closer to some of these people than I do to others. Most smile. In this space, they are excited. In this world, they are separate from the other ordinary worlds they live in. Here they are surrounded by the sea. Here they are with others who desire similar things. Here they are with others searching and exploring. Here they are with others whom they resemble. Here they have no identity. Here there are no expectations. Here, individuals can embody their own raw nature – more intuitive behavior. Here, individuals can share with one another – most of the others being nearly anonymous people whom they have just met for the first time. And here, they unexpectedly meet dolphins.
I dive into the deep blue sea – a rush of cool water breezes through my body. I glide deeper, and my hair becomes straight immediately. My silhouette takes many forms – upside down, right side up, a series of contorted shapes. I can exist in many positions and defy gravity here, and this feels like another freedom. I need not be upright to function. I can be however I want – fast flips, grabbing my own feet, karate kicks with my hair standing on end above me. Everything down here feels dreamlike. Is this a subconscious state? I feel time becoming delayed and slowing down. My mind is free from obligations, restrictions, have-to-do’s, work, school. So I fill it with photos – mental photos – as I remain here in the vast sea.
They arrive so fast – swarming, playing, flipping. They have speed, free will, and a seeming interest in entering our space just to hang out. There are seven of them. The first time arrived that a wild dolphin looked me in the eye. I saw its eye and regarded the rest of it – silky flesh in a few shades of grey, darker on top and much lighter shades on the bottom.
photograph of fabric installation