Friday, March 18, 2011

You asked for it!

Imagine - I actually asked a stranger to take my pic. I've never done that before, but wanted a memory of this vacation.  It's very hard to see my beaded hair.

So tonight, I took my own pic. Not very flattering, but you can see the beaded hair. I only got a few on each side. Tomorrow, I will wash it out.

Ibis (or egret, I'm not sure) fishing in the early morning.


Lots of boats here

Can't you just feel the spray on your face?

The market place in Marigot (capital on the French Side)

More boats

Cruise ships in harbour

Good- bye, St. Maarten!

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

The Power of Choice

I was at the bottom of the well.
I was stuck. It had been going on for too long;  so I came to a decision.
I Chose to leave those tears behind,  pick myself up and fly away.
South. Where the energies are warm and strong.

I Chose Travel, rather than Drowning.

"Who did you go with?"
"Nobody... just me."
"Ohhhh, you're brave."
"No, I"m not."

I Chose to travel alone, rather than wait for somebody, anybody to go with me.
I Chose my own time.
I Chose my vacation, and went to Sint Maarten, the Dutch side of the island (the other side is French).

It did me the world of good.

I listened to the timeless rhythm of  ocean waves; their gentle voices reaching out to soothe my soul.
I allowed the softness of sweet ocean air to caress my skin; its tenderness a balm for raw, sore nerves.

I waited expectantly every morning for the peachy-golden glow of  a Caribbean sun to wake up the earth. As the softness of first light transformed into the passion of a strong and fiery yellow sun, I relaxed into that heat; the warmth spreading throughout my body, awakening a faint stirring of joy. A feeling I thought had been lost, buried, forgotten; a subtle shimmering from somewhere deep within my being.

"Braid your hair, Miss?"
I blinked. Sat up in my chair. Where had she come from? Wasn't it rather early to be working the beach?
I looked around. There were more people here now. Had I fallen asleep? I looked at my watch. It had stopped.

The brightly clad, plumpish Island woman looked at me curiously. She was waiting for my answer.
"No thanks," I started to say, sinking back into my beach chair. Then I changed my mind. And sat back up.
"Yes, I'd like my hair braided. Let's do it!"
"Welcome to Sint Maarten!" she sang with a friendly smile and a swish of her skirts. She plunked herself down, reached into her bag and brought out a multitude of coloured beads for me to Choose.

I Chose pink and white and blue beads.
I Chose to lighten up and have fun.
I Chose to open up and breathe.
I Chose Life.