March 16: Four years ago today my husband and I were re-acclimating ourselves after being 7 days on a 16 passenger Motor Catamaran in the Galapagos Islands. Our brief return to Quito was the perfect opportunity to relocate our land legs, take a proper shower, attire ourselves with clothes that didn’t stand up on their own, and re-adjust to the hustle and bustle of the world before flying home. It was the end of a once in a lifetime trip, a 25th wedding anniversary gift to ourselves, a destination I had been dreaming about for many years.
There are so many aspects of this trip to be grateful for, the most obvious being the opportunity to fulfill a dream; but also, for me, the unexpected experience and love of stillness. I thought I knew what stillness was, but in hindsight, how could I, having lived most of my life in populated urban cities. Walking alone on a beach in Southern California, if that is even still possible to do, to be alone in Southern California, is not the same as being one of 16 passengers in a cluster of 2-5 equally small boats, 600 miles off the mainland touring uninhabited islands for days on end. Galapagos tourism is very restrictive to preserve the ecosystem and this makes the experience very unique.
Groups, if there were any others, did not mingle. Our days were spent with our small Galapagos family, our fellow passengers and crew. Mornings started with a family style breakfast and orientation, including a pep talk by our guide, Roberto, to never forget our camera, sunscreen, water and a smile. Then we went ashore, hiking before the heat of the day. Mid-day we lounged, lunched, and swam. Late afternoons often found us back at the island, snorkeling the reefs, or cruising to our next spot. Once in the early evening we loaded up the Zodiac boats and cruised over to the coastal Mangrove forests of Isla Isabela. The motors were powered off and talk ceased. Except for the sound of water quietly lapping the side of the boat it was silent. The electronic world was millions of miles away.
As the days passed my mind quieted and as my mind quieted I became still and in that stillness there was peace and a sense of being connected to something greater than myself. For weeks afterward I carried that stillness in me and when it started to fade I brought it back re-living my favorite snorkel outing in my head, but even that became harder and harder to do and eventually the stillness was just gone. But the memory stays with me and while it might never be possible to achieve that state consistently in my chosen life, I feel a happy medium is possible, and without realizing it a shift started to take place, a shift towards a simpler more spiritual life.
Photo: Isla Rabida, Galapagos
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