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August 22, 2005

Life Circle

I have written about this before, but I told the following story to some children yesterday and they asked me to put in on my blog so they can share it with their friends:

There is a place in Botswana, Southern Africa called the Okavango Delta. It is the most beautiful place I have ever seen. The Delta is called the Jewel of Africa. It’s the largest inland delta in the world, instead of flowing into the sea, the annual flood of fresh water flows inland, spreading over 15 000km of the Kalahari sand in a maze of lagoons and channels.

Incredible belts of forest fringe the swamps with tall trees giving shade to large herds of game.

Beyond the forest the landscape forms an open savanna, and in these drier areas the greatest concentrations of game are accompanied by the predator families: lion, leopard, cheetah, hyena, and wild dog. It is in these forests and savanna grasslands that you’ll see elephant and giraffe browsing with antelope of almost every kind, from buffalo, wildebeest, and kudu, to sable, roan and impala. The place is absolutely breathtaking.

It was during a visit to the Okavango Delta that I felt a true connection to the universe for the first time in my life.

I was sitting in a dugout canoe (a mokoro) with a guide named Vusi. I sat up front while Vusi used a long oar to push the canoe quietly along the sacred delta.

We passed Hippo, giraffe and hundreds of zebra foraging in the bush. The beauty and powerful visual before my eyes made me realize that I am not as important as I sometimes think I am. That in the big picture, my very existence is a mere blink in time.

It was late afternoon and Vusi positioned the dugout so that we could view the sunset from a good vantage point.

“They call this the golden moment,” he said, pointing to the setting sun, which now bathed the entire delta in a rich golden wash.

“I can see why,” I replied.

“It’s not because of the color,” he said, smiling.

“What do you mean?” I said.

“Wait,” he replied.

And I did, as the sun, a golden ball, rolled over the horizon.

“Listen,” he said, bowing his head and closing his eyes.

I heard nothing but the loud cacophony of day insects simultaneously trying to have their final say before nightfall. I was really amazed at how loud they were.

Then the sun was gone.

Suddenly, in unison, the sounds of the day insects stopped completely.

Silence washed across the delta in a wave of indescribable quietness. Nothing stirred. Complete stillness. Even the water seemed to stop lapping against the side of the boat. It only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity.

Nothing.

At that moment the world seemed to take a deep breath. I heard it. I felt it. I became part of it.
Then, almost as one, the clamor of the night insects suddenly filled the empty void.

The noise was so loud I could hardly hear Vusi speak.

“That was the golden moment,” said Vusi, smiling coyly.

“Did you hear the breath?” he said. “That time between the day and night insects?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“That was God’s breath,” he said, turning the boat and heading across the delta.

Neither of us spoke. We didn't need to.

As we paddled silently toward the rising moon, I realized that our very existence is made up of a million magnificent moments strung together on a delicate thread we call life.

I understood the value of individual moments that day. Not the importance of days or weeks or months or years. Just moments. Valuable seconds that are constantly passing us by.

(I took the above picture on my recent vacation to "Secret Beach". I can't tell you where that is though because then it won't be a secret anymore.)

Posted by trevor at August 22, 2005 10:20 AM

Comments

Posted by: Kathleen Marie at August 22, 2005 01:08 PM

Posted by: Shelley Noble at August 23, 2005 11:45 PM

Posted by: Cin at August 28, 2005 12:51 PM

Posted by: Henry at October 14, 2006 01:59 PM

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