Surrounded by an ocean and by thought. Which is more vast?
The port of Los Angeles is miles and hours behind us as we sail south along the west side of the Baja peninsula of Mexico. The ship cutting through the murky blackness of the night sea. I stand on the starboard deck, body alit only by the cold light emanating from the hot tub next to me. The warm sea air clinging to my skin and filling my lungs feels as reviving as it does ancient. But my thoughts drift along until they’re pulled deep, deep down; far, far into the darkness below and beyond.
The Deep
But my thoughts don’t dance with the horrors that partner with the unknown, the unseen, the opaque, the obscured, and the darkness. When left without enough information to put our minds at ease, the mind is pulled deep down, by the cold and strong hand of fear reaching up from the depths, into an abyss of our own design.
Because the word “deep” often floods out feelings of something painful, worsening, and unsafe. Or finding yourself somewhere far from safety, someplace inescapable, or alone. A deep cut, a deep bruise, deep into enemy territory, deep in debt, in deep trouble. Often, but not always…
We’re so acutely aware during deep enough bouts of pain and how it can feel as seizing as it does unending. But deeply felt pleasures are often only realized after they’re over or gone. My travels have honed my ability to recognize when I’m enveloped in pleasure and experiencing a blissful future memory. Like when I’m deep in thought, deep into a compelling book, to be deeply honored, deep within a euphoric experience, or a love as deep as the ocean I’m sailing on.
The Itinerary
Two and a half days at sea, port days in Puerto Vallarta, Mazatlan, and Cabo San Lucas, then one last day at sea for our return.
It started in the clouds. Then a long night in Long Beach before a short seven nights into the void of a new experience. The night before embarkation found me wandering under the warm streetlights of the cruise ship port and gazing at the silent and still nautical behemoth that would soon carry, feed, and shelter myself and thousands of others, of which there are only five who matter to me.
The Dames
It may sound cliche or be a cute pun to say that my more shallow or surface-level thoughts were stranded on a deserted island, lost at sea, or taken by the waves. But they weren’t. I was focused on being part of a campaign. Those who know me are aware that I listen far more than I speak; act more than I claim. The phrase “a very stoic man” was used to describe me. And when I’m cruising with a unique yet cohesive group of five women, that was more true and as rewarding than ever. It’s been several years since I’ve felt this sense and type of purpose.
I enjoyed carrying their bags when they needed. I enjoyed being the nonjudgemental ear, listening to their concerns. Some waiting for them at home; others they packed with them. I took great pleasure in being their deterrent to unwanted and uninvited attention from men taking advantage of the open floating cage we’re on. “That guy keeps staring at me,” she voiced uncomfortably. “Stand next to me,” I said. It was a deep honor to be a protector again.
Meandering through the ship, sitting at restaurants or bars flanked by five lovely ladies, I noticed the glances, stares, nods, winks, and thumbs up from men and women. Somehow I found myself with the correct amount of strength, concentration, charisma, wisdom, intelligence, and dexterity to be in such a privileged position. With all this talk of deep thoughts, I know to stop overthinking everything and simply say the die of life and my initiative have favored me.
The Experience
This being my first cruise, my general observations were a preponderant amount of old people, drunk people, old drunk people shuffling and lumbering around like zombies. Perpetual partiers who I’m not sure are just letting loose on vacation or are always like this. Sometimes I wonder if this is what people really want to do or are only acting this way because it’s what they think they’re supposed to do on a cruise.
I noticed a vast majority of crew from South East Asia who probably earn the labor rate of their native country. Dubious crew and labor practices hidden behind and below all the luxury. Not all aspects of a cruise are for me. I prefer having a time and space for quiet introspection instead of having no sanctuary from amplified music, electronic stimulation, or from those under alcoholic sedation.
Luckily, I was able to escape to a lower deck, and travel back in time, to gaze out at the sea. Just as those who sailed these waters gazed upon hundreds of years ago. That view unchanged as I pondered my past and future. Leaving the present to appreciate only the moment in which I live.
There was a lot to enjoy as well. Seeing people smiling, noticing happy older couples holding hands and still in love, the clean sea air, the mesmerizing view, disconnecting from the world, my friends experiencing a new country, helping them with my knowledge of language and culture, making memories together, seeing El Arco, sailing next to humpback whales, hearing about two old ladies choking and punching each other on a tour bus, and finding a rubber ducky sporting sunglasses and holding a surfboard.
The Vestiges
Soon enough this new experience will dilute into old memories. Some will fade, some of the finer details will be completely lost to age and time, but all that remain, I’ll feel the deep pleasure of for the rest of my life.
I’m not used to traveling with others. I’ve sat across from so many empty chairs in restaurants, bars, and lounges in my travels. So the least I could do to repay the pleasure of their company, is to provide some literature and photographs of that one time when five women were comfortable and gracious enough to invite one man into their party on a cruise to Mexico. And gift him so many perfect reasons to smile when he’s older.
phxdown 