Wednesday, May 20, 2009

The Malformed Dolfin

The surfers are out there on their boards, riding the waves sideways.  Not my sport.  Mine is to leap up just as a wave crests and dive over it, toes pointed as I disappear into the water beyond.  Over and over.  Or to be rolled sideways in the wave, enjoying the dizziness.  Or to dive under the wave and luxuriate in the bubbles all around me, tickling my skin everywhere.  I like it when the crashing wave pushes and pulls different parts of me in different directions.  I let the wave have its way with me.

I also like to ride the wave backwards...  that is to say, while lying on my back.  I catch it as it crests and shove off with my fins and ride along the top....

My fins.  There.  I said it.

Way back in, was it 1974?   I have the journal, kept in a zippered tote bag, stacked with all my other journals.  I could look up the year.  The bag is on the closet shelf in my newly claimed project-room  (guest room to you).  Written in that journal is a list of.... well hell, even though I was still in my 20s when I wrote it, it was my "Bucket List."

Last time I checked it -- in 1992 -- I saw that I have done everything on that list, except swim with dolphins.  Sensually,  up close and personal, that is.  

I've had this desire for such a long time.  It was reignited by the enchantment I saw in the eyes of a friend who had just returned from swimming with dolphins in the wild.  It was 1988.  She  spoke of it in soft hesitant tones, now and then closing her eyes to re-experience it.  "It's like making love," she whispered.  "They circled around me, gliding gently against my skin, my front, my back, my arms, my legs -- and then dashed away, then returned with a teasing approach.  One female kept rubbing up against me, displying her slit, slightly parted, as if inviting me to enter her.  It was....  I was...."

You can understand why my having paid $75 in New Zealand to share a very cold-water swim-tank with three captive dolphins does not count.  The dolphins never left the bottom of the tank.

Later, I braved the depths of a Hawaiian cove where a friend of mine -- she lives there -- said she swims with the wild ones, calves included.  The couple of days that I tried it, there was not a fin in sight.

And now here in Mexico, where I swim daily, I've yet to see one...  And so...  I swim like one.  I make pure love to the ocean.  We play joyously together every day.

The ocean is very forgiving.  Well it knows that my fins failed to form correctly and that my tail mysteriously bifurcated, but it pays no mind.  I am simply a malformed dolphin.

I am a malformed dolfin.  No es doloroso.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I love your blog. thank you from deep in my spirit. margaret