Mudita

(Pāli and Sanskrit: मुदिता) means joy; especially sympathetic or vicarious joy, or the pleasure that comes from delighting in other people's well-being.

The stillness has started. I turned off the fans for savasana today and realized about 5 minutes too late that cutting off the only breeze in the room stirred a stagnation that made it difficult to rouse oneself after corpse pose. A student reminded me that right around Carnival is when summer makes its presence. (Carnival starts next week.) That said, it took us all about 12 minutes to come out of our stillness- sweaty and rested for the start of our days.

The switching of the season is palpable as oleanders and frangipanis start to blossom, the wind starts to die and the heat begins to rise. If I am honest, I am not looking forward to the shift. I remember last year literally and figuratively stewing in this newfound discomfort. But there is beauty in the new season and, alas, more resources that I can turn towards.

With the new heat, I find myself at the beach in some mornings when the sun is still creeping up and over Mountain Top’s 1,555 vertical feet. And to aid in my recovery from the Covid void of isolation, the morning beach time has been a happy reprieve to meditate, take a dip and find alone time in the midst of the fisherman boarding their boats and the surfers catching waves before work. (The aloneness of Covid is real. The missed hugs, sleeping alone, the knowing that the world goes on while you rest in a hazy fog of reality and illusion; leaning into your body’s capacity to heal, if you can just slow down; flushing and releasing the virus into your sheets and trippy dreams; seeking solace where you can- birdsong, a new favorite show (Atlanta is rocking my world!), a hot 4 minute shower.)

But back to the beach, with a couple of hours under the maho trees, I watch the waves and the range of blues that spawn from the white sand to the deep reefs below, a reverent landscape of aqua marine. Iguanas and their regal profiles mixed with dragon ancestry slide across the sand and leaves, sometimes heard but not seen. And then there are the people who range from locals to tourists soaking, dipping, snorkeling, drinking, smoking, hammocking, singing, sleeping, burning. The display is always entertaining.

My favorite morning of recent was Good Friday. It was around 8am and the beach was mostly empty. As I sat and looked out towards the Brass Islands, I saw a woman in her thirties head into the water with her mask, snorkel and fins- a fair skinned brunette in a turquoise tankinini. While she was bobbing above and below the surface I kept hearing giggles. As I watched, I kept hearing underwater squeals bubbling up from her snorkel. Delight at the fish, the water, the sunshine. Who knows? She literally could not contain herself, her joy. And there was no need.

This little sprite of a woman, in spite of herself, was sharing her glee between long sips of air and diving back down below. Like a yawn, her laughter was contagious in a grin that wouldn’t leave my face. (Even in the retelling of this little story, my smile grows.) As I witnessed her childlike animation, I became a child again with her. The beginner’s mind, the innocence of being in the moment, the awe of the underworld; while I didn’t have to know the exact cause of her jubilation, she took me on vacation from my own thoughts as I dove into her joy. My heart light and refreshed.

With love and laughter,

St. Sunshine

PS: I'd love to hear about your joy, glee, delights! Witnessed or shared.