Autumn in the Emirates is warm, no longer hot as the devil’s breath. Being outside now is possible, even comfortable. And so I have been able to resume one of my favorite soul-nourishing activities – journaling in the cradle of nature’s glory.
The coast is a five-minute drive from my apartment. I get up when the sun knocks on the door of the horizon, and I go to sit at the shore of the Indian ocean as SUN makes her debut into the day.
An older Emirati woman sits on the sea wall and watches the sunrise through the opening of her niqab, hands folded in her lap. A group of young Pakistani men complete their breakfast after their fajr prayers, and an Indian man meditates, no doubt breath matching the rhythm of the lapping sea. An elder is fishing, a woman wades. Birds enjoy left-overs from late night barbecues, children have come to play, and the oil rigs clang unceasingly in the distance. I watch a school of fish move past, wishing I could determine their size and number.
The water is calm. Gentle as a contented conscience, her body is a presence to desire.
How precious this moment! How blessed I am!
To be aware of my place in the movement of the heavens and the rotations of the earth is to be alive. To feel the earth supporting me, the wind embracing me, the sun caressing me, and to share all of this with my fellow humans is to be alive. To hear the shouts and giggles of children skipping over the landscape, to be witness to the camaraderie amongst peoples is to be alive. To recognize that I share this moment, this space, this life with all of life here and afar is to be filled with awe that spills from my body into the sea, blending the breath of all existence into a swirl of colors confirming what I already know: that each fleeting moment vanishes just as another arrives and in all of them, there is a bounty of blessings.