"We have become enslaved by that which we've blindly built"

        The journey of life harbors many surprises, but none have been more so than just how enigmatic intimate relationships are. Has it always been so? Have we in our complex ways in modern society lost touch with intimate relationships? Is our way of life just so utterly at odds with sustaining the loving bonds within our relationships? Have we created a world bound in such convolution that we are no longer intimate with anything?

As we approach the coast of New Zealand, I sit pensively in the seat of the plane staring at Bren. I feel bound and broken, torn by the endless struggle to compromise, to give in, to understand, to trust. I labor with the raging battle to become one with another, my flesh seems stretched too far already, and during these times I even struggle to love. I struggle to brave the new world where deceit and ignominy infiltrate every aspect of our modern relationships. The disease grows and hardens. It tears at my spirit and rips the life from its tethers. Why is such pain borne with every sweet kiss. Why do I taste the bitter poison dripping from her lips. It's not just me; I see it everywhere. It's all around me. My soul writhes to free itself, it's suffocating, I can't breathe, and I hopelessly gasp for air. I sit still, paralyzed, wondering if, as a society, one day we will reap what we have sown, for the seeds of infidelity and narcissism have certainly been planted. Will our children be forced one day to harvest those seeds?

"But why?" softly floats from my lips under my breath.

"Bri, are you okay?" Bren asks as she taps my arm with concern.

My hands tremble, my heart numbs, tears swell, and I shutter to speak.

"My god, what's wrong?" Bren cries out as she takes me in her arms.

I fight it, I fight it with all I have, but I can't speak. Tears flood and stream from my eyes as I fall bewildered into the entanglement of her arms and helplessly weep. I weep for I am torn, torn from the hands of creation, and made to suffer from the spinning wheel of pain that consumes my being. I feel the cold air of death with each breath of life, and it torments me without mercy. Innocent love has been ripped from my breast and I now seek to understand it, to again feel its grace and purity. Is there a world without the bitterness, one that is capable of handling an even deeper reservoir for this aching love. Part of who I am lies tangled within this struggle and I realize, as Bren softly strokes my hair, that within this painful struggle is life and the spirit of growth, I know it and I weep.

***************

As we paraded through the streets of Auckland, we scoured through our options for the next 15 days on the two main islands (North and South) of New Zealand. This is a mini-trip within the journey and the limited time demands a plan of attack. As with every country, the most critical aspect is transportation—so much so that the glory of the quest rests largely in just how efficiently we can get around. After time-consuming research and some serious haggling, it turned out to be much cheaper to rent a campervan than it would be for the combination of renting a car and lodging each night. It was a prime example of our traveling modus operandi: research, negotiate, and bargain on everything. With the campervan we'll be permitted to "free camp"; in other words, just pull off the side of the road to sleep and eat. The only problem is that we have to pick the campervan up in Christchurch on the South Island, and as a result we decided to spend the vast majority of our time on the supposedly more picturesque South Island. By the end of the day, we had thoroughly planned out each day, reserved the campervan, and booked a cheap flight to Christchurch in two days.

At twilight we wearily kicked through the fallen leaves within Carlaw Park and plopped down on the cold slats of a wooden bench. It was our first moment to stop and take hold of this new world. I looked up through the swaying bare branches at the thick gray clouds blanketing the night sky and inhaled the crisp fall air in New Zealand. The concrete and steel rose in the background and seemed as cold as the air around me; it exposed the thin profane veil of innocence lost. As I peered over the end of the wooden bench, I observed a caterpillar scurrying for cover within the warmer folds of the canvas of leaves. As nature slept, this world was filled with the resounding rattles of the big city, and yet even this wasn’t enough to awaken the torpidity within. The chaos of the noise seemed joined as one constant thumping of a bass drum, drawing the people of this place into their proper marching line. Their reality existed within their own mind, declaring that they were indeed going somewhere, convinced that their step with this resounding beat was there own.

"The city almost has a feel of being somewhere lost in the future," Bren began saying, "and I know it's because of Fiji and the Cooks where time just seemed to stand still."

"Yeah, I miss it already...it was so laid-back and relaxed," I replied.

"I know, as convenient as this place is, I definitely miss the life there."

"You'd think we'd miss the sunsets and the beauty of the place, which I do, but it was the simple way of life that gripped me. That’s what I truly miss."

"It seems like Fiji and the Cooks were a dream and now we're stuck back here in reality--"

"Ah, yes, that’s definitely true, babe," I replied ruefully, lamenting our departure from the warm simple life of the tropics.

"Oh man," Bren said with a deep sigh, "it's difficult being here; emotionally, I'm still back in Fiji. Can't we go back, Bri?"

I stared at the stars through my steamy breath and reflected, "I know babe. I feel the same way. You'd think we'd feel more comfortable returning to the city, our roots, a place where we have always been comfortable, and yet strangely, we're not."

"I think it's the pace of the city I'm having trouble adjusting to--"

"Yeah, I never noticed it before in the cities, but now the energy here makes me feel like I'm a robot being pushed through a predetermined channel."

"It does! That's exactly what it feels like!" Bren offered with surprise.

"Somehow, in the midst of this technological wonderland, the people here seem less in touch...they lack direction. Is that possible—that in this world filled with the ambitious and motivated, they could be running astray?"

"It’s funny how much the islands changed our perspective, for these people now seem almost trapped," Bren said with a reflective tone.

"Their cloudy perceptions have become reduced to the unexplored and unfulfilled. Why does this now seem so clear, that our reality before was so distorted…and we’ve only been away for a couple weeks."

"I know and it scares me, Bri—for which one is real?"

After a laborious walk back to our hostel through the nipping cold, I begrudgingly took task to the laundry. I slouched over our packs sitting on the edge of our comfy double bed, my feet gently resting on the plush, albeit worn, carpet. I looked at the freshly painted walls, the furnishings, the electric heater, the shower with hot water, and the telephone. It suddenly seemed odd to question whether a room had electric, hot water, a telephone, or even a mattress. For a moment, I sat there on the edge of the bed puzzled. The feeling was stifling; it held me hostage in its suffocating grip. I was perplexed not just because I realized they were all things I took for granted, but because instinctively I felt out of place. I had only been away from such "things" less than two weeks and for a short time I identified myself without them. For a scant split second, I actually identified myself with the way of life on Kadavu. I was there, it was me, and this place was foreign. I had questioned their inherent value, and subconsciously flung them away. However, just as quickly as this simplified way of life stumbled in, it vanished. C’mon I'm an American, I thought. I'm from the technological capital of the world where every convenience is comfortably laid at my feet. I knew my true place. Although the aroma of subtle confusion was only a mere flash, the feeling continued to linger and consume. Until this trip, I never knew life without it, but now I was reluctant to just blindly submit to technology.

I sleepily slouched in a chair in front of the machines that will wash and dry our foul, odoriferous clothes. I watched them tumbling in the dryer in front of me while thoughts of our technological conveniences consumed me and tumbled in my mind as well. I wondered if these "conveniences" are truly beneficial to humanity. On one hand, they by their very nature allow us to concentrate on matters considered "more important," such as I am presently doing; yet on the other, and the question which plagues me, is do they also by their very nature pull us away from what is ultimately important in life. Have we become bogged down by these "conveniences," so much so, that we end up smothered by them?

In reality, sadly enough, most of us merely exist. We do nothing more or less. Do we, as human beings, not seek more than this...to just exist? Do we not aspire for more? So it seems, regrettably enough, we do not!

But that is the problem isn't it; we as a society no longer have a strong belief in something...anything, except maybe technology and money.

The strongest belief we have is, "How can I make my life easier or more comfortable?"

In fact, one could convincingly argue that many actually believe that they are owed something from those around them, their country, and even the world. Is this a productive way to live our lives—for our attitude seems to belie the positive aspects of technology? So, I wonder now if these "conveniences" merely afford us the opportunity to further distance ourselves from what is important in life? Does it rip us away from the elements of our humanity; does the prodigious advents of technology truly advance the cause of Man?

Is this "progress?"

I asked myself.

Why is it that we, as individuals, as a culture or even as humanity, continue to judge our "progress" by only one means; that is, by our technology and how much of it we own. For example, if you ask any person from New York to Moscow, "Have we progressed since the 1600s or even in 1900?" the answer undeniably would be, "Of course." When prompted for the reasons for their position, quite naturally, they would begin to list all of the technologically superior "things" we have today. We've been to the moon, we have high-speed modes of transport, computers virtually connect the world, and we have conveniences of every sort in our homes. Interestingly enough, it is supported, even perpetuated, by our historical perspective. For example, in modern times we have begun to name each epoch of history by its technological mark: the "Industrial Revolution," the "Space Age," and the "Computer Age." It goes on and on. We measure ourselves technologically and we conveniently call it "progress."

Do we as a society not have the compulsion, even the obligation, to leave this world better than we found it? Do we not seek more from our lives than being ruled by technological "things" and the green paper we put in our pockets? Do we individually not seek "truth," an ideal to establish our own personal beliefs and guide our lives by, and in essence, to provide significance and help us along the path toward contentment and happiness? Do we not seek to find the "ideals" within our existence and inhale their virtue with our every breath? Do we not seek to confront ourselves as an entity, because for the most part, we are still an unknown quantity—regardless of the technological curtain we conveniently employ to hide this painful reality? If you take away the technological advances this country, this world, has made—has our "meaning" in this existence become any more defined?

We've come to live in a society dominated by technology. Today, we have grown to accept its control, simply, because it has become easier to do so. It is just easier to pick up the remote and change the channel to find what we need, and technology permits us, quite conveniently, to raise this barrier. Indeed, we have learned that in a culture dominated by chaos and hellacious schedules, that taking the easiest and quickest solution permits us to get more done. It has developed into a pattern of behavior in America ingrained as much as fireworks on the Fourth of July. Making our lives easier drives our motivation for technology, not necessarily making our lives any better—more fulfilling—just easier. Unfortunately, this cultivates a soft mentality, one in which we become dependent upon technology to provide the answers and meet our every need. In this softness, we have lost our "edge," we've become the "couch potato" of the world, allowing others, technology, and money to do the "dirty work" for us. Why? Simply, because it has become easier to do so.

The overwhelming problem with our increasing reliance on technology, and this resulting dependent pattern of behavior—where we learn to always take the easiest road, is that by its very nature it deprives us of the frame of mind necessary to attack other more crucial aspects of our lives. For example, to maintain personal relationships, to attain personal growth and strengthen our spirituality, takes consistent hard work and maintenance; it takes the heart and the will to discover, to seek contrasts, to confront the inner self and never just accept. Instead of taking the opportunity advanced technology provides us and using the "freed" energy to pursue our personal and collective significance, to enrich our lives, to spend more time with our families, to strengthen the bonds of our relationships, we rely instead on technology to escape altogether from the harsher realities of life. We have used technology simply to enhance the opportunity to pursue our newly inspired "American Dream," that is, to make it easier to earn more money to feed our insatiable craving for material possessions.

We all have learned that nothing about life is easy, and as a result, we rely—and almost helplessly so—on technology to brace our languidness and escapism. Why? Because simply we can. As such, technology has become no more than the comfortable barrier between our selves and the ugly realities of living life. Even more problematic is that this pattern of behavior is being explicitly taught to the next generation—the path to finding the easiest path by using technology as a barrier, all toward fulfillment of the diseased "American Dream" and making more money. Naturally, there is nothing inherently wrong with any of these things, just the absurd lengths we take them, the priorities we establish from them, and the "philosophical way of life" we have developed as a result.

Parenthetically, taking this "easiest path" toward achieving the "American Dream" usually includes stepping on others, or worse, stabbing them in the back—thus reinforcing the easier route to our "fool's gold," one toward achieving these material trophies of "success." Instead of being egregious wimps and hypocrites, why don't we just tell our children the truth from the start: "Listen son, picture a pyramid and put money at the very top. Now that's what you’re striving for—that's your goal. Why you ask? Well, because that shows you’re successful, it shows others what you've accomplished, and in those symbols is the sign of power. Oh yeah, now you're getting the idea, we are purely concerned with the acquisition of money and power. Shhh, don't tell anybody, don't want to be a hypocrite ya know, but that son, is your 'American Dream.' It is who we are! Now, as we work downward, you want to take the easiest path toward acquiring this money, and don't worry about knocking anyone down in getting there, hey, that's the American way—Darwin would be so proud. Don't be so glum, let me tell you the sooner you get your first knife in your back the better, son, it makes it all the easier to do it to someone else.

You're going to college, for example, not really to get an education, to learn; no way, look you've got it all backward, because in truth it's only to get that piece of paper that has any significance. That paper earns you a small piece of respect, which is then likely to earn you more money, and in time and enough ruthlessness, more power. Look, never worry about how you're getting to a place, only that you get there—it is the end result, not the means, which has any significance. Incidentally, try and fit in a family, some kids so you can teach them this cultural tradition, grab a vacation somewhere, repent once a week at church—of course, that's only if you have the time, and just keep plugging away toward reaching the top of your pyramid. That's your life, American style!"

"But Dad, don't I need to find out who I am in that sequence, the meaning of my life, establish ideals, understand how to contribute to humanity?"

"Whoa, who the hell did I raise here! Look son, that's the beauty of the system, you don't have to worry about those things, it's all taken care of—the burden's been lifted. All you have to worry about is making money, it even provides the justification for not doing anything else, how's that for beauty! If you're still a little worried, well, just remember, by making money you're actually contributing to humanity for how do you think the rest of the world would survive without us and our money...jeez, sometimes I wonder about you kid, really, this contributing to the whole of humanity stuff. How could you be so naive and idealistic? Obviously, you get that from your mother..."

As the torch of the next generation is beginning to ignite, we are being taught to blindly submit to this systematic purge of our beings—to fall into place and accept our birthright toward living our lives in utter bliss thanks to technology and the free flowing dollar. However, this vicious pattern now impedes our spirituality, our relationships, and both our social and personal growth—for instead of the necessary internal search, we now just look toward technology to provide it. We have become a nation replete with the spiritual depraved and the socially and personally impoverished; we have become a nation of individual souls lost within this system of desire, souls who haven't the foggiest clue as to the essence of their being. Indeed, our system actually deters them from the search. Our spirituality and social growth has been swallowed by barriers of technology in the name of convenience and in the hope of sustaining our wealth. We all feel something has gone awry; most of us on a base level feel lost and confounded; we sense our mounting depravation and loneliness. Deep within, we hear the caustic call that collectively we are losing our personal significance.

Certainly, you can have individual growth and spirituality concurrent with advancement of technology, but again, we have chosen the easier route; that is, to rely solely on our new found friend, "technology." We are constantly reminded of our technological prowess; it has become so ingrained in our psyche that it provides the veil of security that we are indeed moving forward. Technology now fills the void left by our social, personal and spiritual deficiencies. In fact, the more we fail to recognize this, the more we crave technology and material goods to fill this void and the more it becomes a vicious circle from which we cannot escape. Profoundly, it seems that we are constrained by technology not freed as a result of it, and as if painted with the brush of irony, we have become enslaved by that which we've blindly built.

The washer rocks and shakes wildly, then finally stops. I stand over the washer and manually reorganize the lopsided clothes, and I can't help but think of George Orwell's 1984, and "Big Brother." I remember reading of the intolerant governmental entity and how it sent shivers down my spine just imagining being controlled by this imposing entity. I think we all are. What scares me now is that "Big Brother," this ominous entity, is really just ourselves...and our complex system only masks our weakness. It is we as human beings—not some distant and abstract entity—who restrict our personal freedom, the independence of thought, and the potential "significance" in this existence. The noose only tightens around the necks of our impious souls as we collectively hang from the gallows tree. Have we created this oppressive system of programmed behavior merely out of our own greed and avariciousness because it’s more efficient? Have we sold our souls, and indeed the souls of next generations, merely for the efficiency of an economic system?

Yes, our lives are undeniably easier than in 1600 or 1900, and of course, technology is not some profoundly inherent evil. In fact, it has moved us, as a people, from a "physical" sphere to a "mental" one. It has freed us from the binds of the physical. Where, centuries ago, our minds were once completely occupied with physical labor, we are now free to use our minds and discover what lay hidden within each of us. However, rather than it becoming an emancipation, it has become a burden. Clearly, we have shown that we cannot handle this "mental" freedom. Instead of thinking on our own, seeking the twinkling stars within our own universe, establishing virtuous ideals within our lives, and possibly discovering spiritual purity and truth, we have chosen to rely on the "god" of technology. We have become its obedient servant. With our personal happiness, our personal significance, and our collective existence, all hanging precariously in the balance, we have chosen the easiest path—we now bow to technology for the answers. Unfortunately, the price we may pay for this could be not only the extinction of our culture but the collective loss of our sacred soul.

We, as Americans, have always found the justification in that with two steps forward, there's always one back. Yet, I can't help but wonder if the opposite is true in this case. The technology itself is without question a step forward, but how we use it, how we depend on it, how we look to it to purify our diseased souls and create happiness, seems ironically, two steps back. Sadly, and starkest example of this, is that we can't even say that technology has made it a "better" place to live because of the development of weapons of mass destruction—weapons that in an instant can destroy our entire planet. Weapons that can wipe out our existence, and again ironically, we must rely on the free will of these same diseased souls to prevent the mass extinction of our species. So, who is to say that WE won't, for that extra dollar, go to such absurd lengths? Sadly, we have created a system that prevents us from even confidently answering that question.

As I folded our washed and dried clothes, I don't think the way of life on Fiji or the Cooks is our answer. I don't think an agrarian society will satisfy us as Americans. We need technology; in fact, science and innovation breach the path of the unknown, it helps us logically deal with that dark path ahead. It broadens the path, expands our minds and even creates new paths that we otherwise wouldn't recognize or understand. It is a welcome and necessary source for moving forward. However, our blind reliance on it and the self-imposed perception that within this realm placidly lay all the answers is, and will continue to be, wholly destructive to our way of life and even quite possibly to all of humanity. For, without a doubt, the answers to our "meaning" individually and collectively, our sense of purpose and "significance" as human beings do not wait to be uncovered within the realm of technology.

Simply, it may assist in the process, but it is not the source itself.

I think back to our days in the South Pacific. It is clear, so clear to me, that their way of life is virtually unaffected by technology and they seem much happier for it. It seems, truthfully, almost completely incomprehensible. It's something that bubbles and hardens within, for it wasn't that they just seemed more content, I sensed it, I felt it—they actually were. Ironically, it felt as if I had been living my life in a sluggish dream state, and I finally woke, opening my eyes to this glaring reality. For us, technology certainly has its distinct place in leading us into the future, but anytime you look outward for happiness instead of in, you place your hope and faith only in a false "profit." Being "happy" is a state of mind, one that needs sustenance, it needs a deeper, more refined perspective of life, one that affords the individual a sense of appreciation and contrast. However, by placing so much emphasis on money and possessions we inherently preclude our beings from ever constructively "understanding" ourselves and creating this positive state of mind. Simply, we have created a system where we as a collective will never be truly "happy."

The most important question, the most difficult question, we must all ask ourselves is can we honestly say that we've "progressed." Can we say that we have progressed as individuals, as a society, as human beings? Truly, are we any happier, more content, more fulfilled than the people living in 1600 or 1900, or more pragmatically, even the people of the Rarotonga or Fiji. Are we, more poignantly, any more sure of who we are and any closer to finding our purpose either individually or as human beings.

Have we progressed?

I ask you.

***************

New Zealand has a mere three million people inhabiting its islands and nearly three-fourths live on the North Island, with a full one-third of the total population living in Auckland. This city has the feel of an American city except that there is much more activity in the downtown area—it is the spirited hub. The people are surprisingly eclectic, with the immigration of Asians and the convergence of Polynesians from the islands nearby. There is an energy, which flows through the bustling port giving it a decidedly cosmopolitan feel. Contrary to most large cities, Auckland sparkles of a city with spirit, one that doesn't completely suffocate its residents. The people are definitely not consumed by the city or its commanding technology. They are still in control, they maintain some semblance of leverage over the machines, and their warm embrace of friendliness gives the city substance far beyond most big cities.

After scouring the city’s tourist attractions, we ended up in Parnell, a small older inner suburb of the city. It's the traditionally trendy section of Auckland and boasts an abundance of art galleries, craft shops and good, if not downright trendy, restaurants. We built up a serious appetite as we strolled along the main road casually peeping in the upstart shops and admiring the glitz of this rejuvenated corner of the city’s outskirts. Since Vegas we haven't either eaten dinner at all or have been eating on an economical shoelace, so this was to be our night to splurge. After becoming famished from mindlessly walking around in circles, we finally took note of a little Italian place down a small alley off the main road upon spotting the illuminated sign flashing, "Italian Food."

"Look, Bri, it seems so quaint," Bren said excitedly peering through the window.

I looked in and offered hesitatingly, "But babe, nobody else is in the place."

"Oh c'mon, Bri, where's that adventurous spirit of yours," Bren said jabbing me cheerfully in the arm, "Besides, it'll be all the more romantic for our big night out."

I agreed, always up for pasta, and entered the empty restaurant. After being seated and perusing the menus, we decided on typical Italian dish each and water. The lights were dim and a single candle was lit at our table producing a soft warm hue over Bren's face. Italian music played softly in the background as I grasped her hand and smiled.

"Ah, remember Venice..." I said trailing off as I poured the water in our wineglasses.

"How could I forget, it's one of my favorite places in the world," Bren replied with a smile of fondness adorning her face, "Remember that little restaurant we found in the middle of town...oh, how romantic it was."

"Yeah, I remember, but what I remember even more was how we couldn't find our way back through the maze of streets and canals to our hotel room."

"Yeah, but even that was fun in Venice," Bren said with a deep sigh of fond reflection.

"Well, here's to even better times ahead," I said lifting my water for a toast.

We clung our glasses together and with reflective smiles of Venice we sipped the water. With it still swirling in both of mouths we looked up at each other...desperately looking for a place to spit before we choked. Gulp. "My god, what the hell is in that stuff!" Bren blurted out, her face red and eyes creased with tears.

"It tastes like kava with a bottle of Tabasco thrown in!" I returned as we both broke out laughing hysterically.

"It does!" Bren shrieked with laughter, tears streaming down her cheek.

With the thought of even trying another glass of water turning our stomachs, we ordered two cokes. Our meals finally came along with our cokes. As any romanticism of the evening had already been stripped away with the vile water, our grumbling stomachs took over and we discarded any formalities and dug in. I quickly looked up at Bren whose face was writhing in anguish as she chewed the food.

"My god, now what's in this stuff," she cried out after a gulping swallow.

"I don't know but it's not Italian, that's for sure. They must be making the food with the water!"

"God, whatever it is, it's awful. I don't think it's even edible, Bri."

My hunger pains cried out, so I took another bite.

"Well, it's not quite as bad as it was initially. It actually is kind of like the kava, because after the first bite your mouth goes numb."

Bren emboldened and took another stab, "Wow, I just can't eat this. As much as I know this meal is costing us, more than any other meal on the trip, I still can't."

Bren stared at her plate almost awaiting for the mass of food to just pick up and start moving on its own when she asked, "do you think we should say something?"

"I don't think so. We are guests here in their country; maybe it's just not suited to our taste. Who knows?"

"Yeah, but somehow I doubt it!"

"Well, at least we have our cokes," I said.

That is, until we saw the bill. It cost an eye-popping two bucks a coke. After pinging our glasses to extract every last drop of our lavishly expensive cokes, we mortgaged the trip and paid the bill for our scarcely eaten meals. Upon exiting with the rumblings of hunger pains still lingering, I glanced up at the sign to see in small letters before the scripted "Italian Food" was the word "Chin's." I stood glaring at the sign for a moment, as Bren then looked up to see what I was ogling over when we both just busted out laughing.

"I can't believe that place. That was without question the worst food, forget Italian, I've ever had," Bren said.

"Yeah, but I guess it serves us right...Chin's Italian Food."

***************

We woke giddy like a couple of little kids on Christmas morning, as this was the day we were to swim with dolphins. I expectantly pulled the curtain back and peered out the window of our new hostel on wheels. "Shit," I said aloud as I found a carpet of thick fog covering the tiny town of Kaikoura. Only the snow-capped tips of the mountains that engulfed the small, quaint town on the South Island pierced through this dense floor of mist. My heart sank as our deepest hopes of swimming amongst the wild dolphins drifted solemnly away into this opaque depository of nature. For us personally, the blanketing fog was clearly trouble. If the day's events were canceled due to the inclement weather, we couldn't afford to stay and wait it out even a day longer without wiping out another destination, and yet this was an activity of a lifetime, one we both have often dreamed. It was a quandary; one I knew would end in leaving town because we simply couldn't jeopardize the entire New Zealand trip for this one endeavor, regardless of its appeal. So, we both ate our breakfast in sullen silence, neither wanting to speak of the lingering inevitable.

With pods of dolphins and whales just off the coast and seals abounding at the end of the peninsula, Kaikoura is the Mecca for marine life enthusiasts in New Zealand. So, figuring we probably would not be able to swim with the dolphins, we drove through the charming main street of town and made reservations to whale watch later in the afternoon. As we anxiously returned to the dolphin complex, we were told that the fog was lifting, and the group would be heading out. However, we were explicitly informed that the spotters failed to locate any dolphins; so it was our choice to go, the risk was solely ours. Half of the group immediately dropped out, but Bren and I were gung-ho and for us, it was an easy decision—toss the $100 down on Black and let the little white ball fall where it may.

The seven of us in the group lined the back of the boat still lightly blanketed in the dewy mist of the remaining fog. We all bubbled with excitement from our highly anticipated destiny with the dolphins, and yet our anxiety was clearly palpable. I was somber, locked in with the surreal environment before me—the opulent blue sea stretching endlessly toward the horizon, the dense fog hanging to the belly of the majestic mountains on shore, and the sun’s rays glimmering over the snowy peaks. I looked upward and watched the steamy rays of golden light pierce through the clouds and fall upon my face. The warmth stroked my skin, the undisturbed purity and the ripened beauty of a new day within this land flogged away the lingering oppressiveness of the city. I could almost feel our destiny within the silken streaming rays of this raging dawn.

On this day, we were in search of the Dusky Dolphin, a dolphin slighter in size than the Bottlenose and found only in the Southern Hemisphere. Typically, they are of a grayish color with a white underside and short stubby snouts and they tend to congregate in "pods" consisting at times in the many hundreds. But, for any of us, we would have settled for just a few.

"Listen guys, I just want to reiterate that there's no guarantee of even seeing the dolphins. In fact, they haven't been spotted in three days," our guide yelled back to us.

A sense of foreboding rippled through the group and we all silently refocused our attention on the open sea, and our search became even keener. As we gazed out over the cresting blue waves, the air buzzed with the eagerness of fulfilling a dream. It consumed us all. Each of us had our own unique perspective on swimming with the dolphins, and the experience was on some level fulfillment of our spiritual destiny. A precious piece of who we were and desired to be was swimming unseen beneath the surface of the salty water.

With every moment we failed to observe any signs of the elusive dolphins, our hearts dropped further into the pith of inner darkness. It was a black drape swung over our gilded expectations. The excited talk quickly became chatter, and the chatter became merely isolated statements of hope. After an hour of traversing the coastline, our skipper bellowed that it didn't look good, but we'd try a bit farther out to sea but after that we’d have to head back. No one said a word. I could only hear the motor humming and the bow of our boat as it bounced hard over the waves, and I was reminded of Fiji and Aponu. There was utter silence among the group—the unspoken reality of not even seeing a single dolphin pierced all of our hopes. I kneeled onto the floor and rested my chin on my arms spread out on the wall of the boat and I peered out over the sheer depth and power of the sea. It was a subtle tap of humility for I was a just one grain of sand amongst an entire beach, amongst an entire planet of nature. I sensed its power and I was microscopic, invisible, seemingly insignificant in its massive outstretched hands. Bren then wrapped her arms firmly around me and together we kneeled and hung our heads...as hope faded.

We all did.

Then suddenly came the piercing cry, the cry of promise, as our skipper suddenly turned and gunned the boat. We clung to the side as the boat crashed over the waves with reckless abandon. In the distance before us, from this horizon and out of the sea soared a dolphin and then another and yet another. The boat instantly became electrified, "dolphins, dolphins," someone cried out giddy with excitement. We hung on to the sides of the boat engaged by the staggering acrobatics of these wild dolphins playfully flipping and twisting through the air and splashing back into the sea.

"Get ready, let's go, let's go!" our guide began screaming as she charged around the deck of the boat preparing for our swim with the fifty or so dolphins. The air was rippling with electricity. Each of us jittered and jumped with surging adrenaline as we donned our snorkels, masks, and flippers. When the boat came to a halt and the horn blared signaling us to enter the water, our guide began yelling, "Go, go, go!"

I immediately dropped my head below the surface, and a gray flash blazed past me, then another—so fast, so graceful. Bren, who was next to me with her head under the surface, began drifting away completely entranced by the flurry of these magical dolphins. I, on the other hand, floated frozen on the surface, paralyzed by this marvel of nature. The chill of the water quickly dissipated and I felt a penetrating warmth and energy—it felt like the budding of spring was actually within me. I remained bound in disbelief, stunned by the beauty and grace, by the sheer presence of these divine creatures—and I was amongst them. I looked out over the sea as a feeling of pure exhilaration filled my body and I was unexpectedly flooded with a rush of the senses, an illogical flag of emotion was hoisted high into the salty air. For I felt that I was more than a blob of cells, more than a thick composite of unmolded clay, and even, more than my mortal reflection.

After a few moments, I heard the horn blare again signaling us to return to the boat. "What, no, no, no," I began saying into my snorkel.

It then struck me what I'd been doing...just floating on the ocean surface contemplating the moment.

"Dammit, I can't believe I did this, my chance of a lifetime and I'm pondering instead of experiencing," I thought to myself as I reluctantly swam back to the boat.

"I can't believe this!" I said out loud smacking the water.

I climbed at last back aboard and our guide instructed us to dry off, as we'd try to catch up to the pod for another opportunity.

I sat down in the corner cold, dripping wet, retracted, and dazed. I explained to Bren what I had unbelievably done. She wrapped a towel around my shivering body and sat down next to me in an attempt to console me, "Have faith, we'll get another shot."

"I have to laugh though Bri, that's what you get for trying to analyze everything," she said with a sadistic chuckle and a subtle jab to my ribs.

The others were jumping with jubilance as excited chatter filled the air. However, out of the water and in this corner, I felt isolated, alone. The others, including Bren, continued to bounce around the deck consumed with the experience, and my skin felt as if ice was forming upon its surface and chilling me to the core, for I couldn't believe I was that taken—I couldn’t relate to the others. Intellectually and emotionally I really didn't understand it...I couldn't fathom the experience. I then stood and gazed upon the blue sea holding our tiny boat within its grip, and the depth seemed limitless, the vitality beneath its surface boundless, and even the small waves upon its surface seemed without end. It washed way the weary notion of my forlornness and shook my sleepy bones from their sluggish corner. I became vivified by a faith that somehow had wormed its way beneath the doubt and flowed with corpuscles in my body. As our skipper again gunned the boat and we bounced high and hard over the waves of this mystical world, I yearned to bathe within its waters again and dance with the ethereal dolphins. I begged to feel the subtle murmurs of this great earth and its precious inhabitants. And with that thought, I heard our guide who stood poised over the bow of the boat, scream, "Oh my god; oh, my god! There must be three pods here, there has to be four hundred or so."

"Let's go, get ready," she continued jumping around with excitement. "Wow," she said finally exasperated, "In all my years, I've only seen this many a few times. This is going to be awesome guys, let's go, let's go. What a day!"

In a flash I was up flopping toward the back of the boat with my flippers already on, and mask and snorkel in hand; I was first in line and anxiously awaiting the horn to trigger my plunge back into the caressing kingdom of blue light. This time, I was drawn to this fertile bastion of liberated energy, knowing that the precious seed was the fruit of Nature’s bounty—that what was within those blessed waters was within me. Bren then turned toward me and smiled, undoubtedly seeing my unfailing determination and zeal. As the horn blasted, she gave me a gentle, adoring wave and I made the fated plunge.

The alacritous dolphins were swarming all around me, one zipped by me in one direction, another two passed in the opposite direction, while another still, slowed and suddenly whisked swiftly passed and out of sight. Spellbound by these exalting creatures and the longing to be even closer, I held my breath and dove into the throng below my feet. I hung in the water virtually motionless as a lone dolphin from the group approached. He slowed and stared directly at me only mere feet away. My heart thumped heavily as his eyes locked with mine and we uncannily observed each other. The dolphin then smoothly swam to my left, with his piercing eye still on me as he arched his back and his tail effortlessly propelled him around me. I felt his eye following me, this ubiquitous eye of earth communicating its numinous message. My flesh and blood were consumed with fire, these incandescent beings flowed all around me. It was a harmonious union connected by the musical strings of this universe—and it left me feeling as if I was freely floating through the air lifted merely by this transcendent impression.

I turned to face this lone radiant dolphin, when he abruptly turned completing the circle around me; I turned once again to face him yet with the fluid flick of his tail he was passed me. The pace quickened with each turn, and in an accelerated circle we continued. He graciously glided in this circle around me while both my arms and legs flailed about fighting the water gawkily attempting to spin ever faster to keep up with his swift, graceful motions. I turned faster but simply couldn’t keep up when something brushed against my leg; I instinctively peered down and saw the dolphin pass by and like a flash of lightning, dash into the blueness beyond.

I flew to the surface, plunging through with surging adrenaline and gasped for air. I was pleasantly delirious as I yelled to Bren, "You’re not going to believe this but I just played tag with a dolphin!" Bren quickly swam over as I jabbered incoherently about the entire incident. With a swift glance of incredulity, she then peered under the surface. Almost immediately, she popped her head back up and frantically began mumbling through her snorkel, "Your dolphin is circling us!" Together, we looked under and there was the dolphin doing slow circles around our feet, and as if on cue he stopped directly in front of us—a mere arm's length away. His eye was upon me again, and as Bren began assaulting me with glee, pulling on my wetsuit, we were all one within this world of swaying water—the embryo back in its place. He stayed still, so poised, perfect in his nature, and I could see the bubbling excitement in Bren’s eyes as they rolled around, wild and unfocused. She was sucked into our world, and baptized within this watery glow of unleashed freedom.

The dolphin began crying out to us in muffled clicking sounds, so we then communicated back by making similar clicking noises into our snorkels; it became a chorus of muffled clicks, singing together, merged as one in expression. I finally took a picture and he darted around us in a circle at an amazing speed. Twice. He then stopped at the same spot and began rolling very slowly until he exposed his white underside to us. As we hastened the clicking noises, our playful dolphin rolled back and began to quickly circle us yet again. We remained motionless as he continued to loop around coming closer with each motion. I calmly held my arm out at my side as he methodically circled, and eventually, I watched him brush against my hand as I gingerly stroked the side of him. I felt something tug within, my mind expand, my bones grow, and the blood surge as my heart fill with this purified providence. The ceiling of the Sistine Chapel popped as a split-second vision in my head for this fiery touch instantly ignited the past, present and the future within me.

I heard the horn fire off signaling for our return. No other dolphins were around and yet ours remained. We stared down at him as he stopped in front of us and swiftly rolled over a few more times before he sped away and out of view. He was gone.

Bren and I crawled back up onto the deck of the boat, laughing, smiling, and high-fived. 

"Whoa, that was absolutely phenomenal!" I trumpeted triumphantly to Bren.

Bren tilted her head to the heavens above and yelled, "My god, that was just awesome! I can't believe one of them let you touch him. I just can’t believe it!"

"Neither can I," I said as I watched Bren bounce up and down singing of our experience. She was bursting with radiance.

"What! You actually touched one of the dolphins," the guide shockingly exclaimed after overhearing our dialogue.

"Yeah, twice actually," Bren excitedly retorted, "Well, Bri did anyway."

"Get outta here! You know that's extremely rare," she said drifting off in thought, "Wow, I knew I should have gotten in the water myself."

The boat slowly headed back to the dock with seven ecstatic "dolphin swimmers," who were filled with a solemn joy, one that reached beyond expectation and enabled us to understand what it must feel like to sing a morning melody amongst the birds, to run over open plains with the buffalo, to sprightly dance from flower to flower with the bumble bee. As I watched the woman next to us, slouched down against the back of the boat softly crying to herself, I understood her tears for it was a moment without fear, a moment that made you feel apart of the expanse of this vast universe. And as insignificant as you feel sometimes in observing this massive cosmos we live in, this was a touch of the significant. I felt it, I breathed it, and yes, I lived it. Bren and I then together turned out toward the sea, with towels wrapped around us and her hand clasped in mine, and we gazed out over the limitless horizon...almost expecting our divine dolphin to again mystically appear and shower us in his affable grace.

But he never did.

Following an afternoon of whale watching, we drove out to the seal colony at the end of Kaikoura Bay to finish off our day with the marine animals of Kaikoura. We parked the camper and walked among the rock pools in search of the seals. Low tide permitted us to romp far out along the rocks in pursuit of Bren's long loved creature of the sea. Hand in hand we scampered across the slick rocks to where we found Bren's seals. I cautiously moved in closer to get a better picture; however, I had inadvertently cut off the seal's path back to the sea, and he immediately exploded with a furious squall. Instantly, Bren let out a piercing scream of her own as she and an older guy standing next to us sprinted off in a frightened panic toward the parking lot. They ran stumbling over the loose slippery rocks, hurdled the concrete wall and turned hesitatingly back to the direction of the seals, fully expecting them to have been charging in pursuit. I had gingerly backed off the seal's path a few steps, got the picture, and stood laughing hysterically. The guy, embarrassed or just angry, swiftly jumped in his car and took off.

Bren just swore.

As Bren and I drove away, I was "saved" from her unmitigated fury by the stunning sunset. We stopped and came to rest among the rocky coast of Kaikoura harbor where we watched the sun retreat behind the mountains guarding the town. It turned the lower half of the sky a deep purple with shades of pink wrapping the snow-capped tips of the mountains and transforming them into striking shadows prominently displaying their hidden majesty.

"What a day!" Bren said with a deep sigh, never removing her eyes from the sun touching the snow-capped peaks.

"Yeah, the best of the trip," I replied.

"The best of my life…" she whispered trailing off into her freshly enchanted world.

We sat on those cold rocks, freezing, yet motionless. Bren was right. I really didn't know what to expect before the day began, I had no experience to draw on to help provide a framework of expectation. But as I silently sat on the massive boulder beneath me I knew she was right. It was the best, and we were downright blessed to have experienced this glassy stratum of life. It’s rarified delight when you are able to literally reach out and touch the essence of nature and at the same time feel emotionally a profound sense of place within its open palm. But it went even deeper; something here touched us both deep inside, deep within. I felt it; I felt New Zealand and even something beyond that, something beyond a nation, people or this physical world.

"Bri, are you okay?" Bren asked with a caressing touch to my forearm and making an obvious reference to my emotional purge on the plane ride into this land of transparent beauty.

"Yeah," I whispered still mesmerized by the magical flute which seemed to be playing openly throughout the day, "I understand that somehow the trial is within. And well, at least I realize that I’m going to be okay."

We embraced on those chilled rocks and the fire grew ablaze once again and even as I watched the sun fall below the peaks the warmth remained. I knew that with growth would come suffering, that with suffering would come painful growth, and now I suffer interminably within Nature’s phosphorescent presence.

"I wonder what everyone's doing back home?" Bren then said as we gazed beyond the mountains to the horizon together.

I glanced upward to the sky which had turned a glowing purple and the wispy plumes of this radiant heaven as it wrapped around the towering snowy mountains; I reflected on the magical experiences of the day and somberly whispered, "Probably just the same old thing."

Copyright © 2000 PbFisher. All rights reserved.