Wednesday, July 27, 2016


Without another soul, I climbed
My favorite place, a special place – the syncline
There is something magical about the view from above but today the view from the descent revealed things I haven’t seen before
Even though I know it well, with a little change in perspective I was able to see this familiar path with a bit of reverence
And I wonder…
What would it be like if I looked at more things (the tougher things) from below,
Instead of above.

-debbie lynn

Wednesday, July 13, 2016

Caribbean Dawn

The light begins to break through the darkness and it has a soft glow. Filtered by luminous clouds (with their bellies full) the sky stirs and they release their load - 
but this morning… it is a gentle rain. 

A hint of a rainbow appears letting it be known the sun is moments away from a grand entrance.

It is early and the sea takes on many shades. A chameleon of sort in multiple hues of blue – it’s all a reflection. As above so below the water is our life source and I say I little thank you.

The gentle rocking of the boat soothes my soul.
I am cradled by the sea and feels so right.  The water is lapping against the hull, the birds dance and dive then perch themselves on a near-by buoy to stand sentinel.

Life is simple, untethered and quiet in one bay to the next, and each day has its own unique serenity. Connecting to the ocean has deepened my respect for its immensity and heightened my ability to tolerate inconvenience of certain things I once deemed important – thankfully they are no longer a thought.

From our boat, I watch the village awaken and I think...
Existence on shore now seems tilted, harried, stressful and sad. A place I cannot embrace anymore so I say a little prayer. I could easily shut my eyes to solid ground but I don’t, I won’t and I adapt when needed.

We go to land to provision, to take in the heritage, and the way of life.  We are constantly reminded of just how lucky we are and to never take for granted where we come from – life is not easy on these Islands. The things we have grown up with are only a pipe dream to the West Indies. 

Respectively, we are spoiled beyond our wildest imagination.

Just beyond the juxtaposition of the clashing cultures in each village/town is the sacred jungle. A place where the old ways dominate by far. Technology couldn’t, or wouldn’t dare try to master or duplicate the strength of blood wood trees, the beat of the hummingbird wings and the might of the rivers that feed our soul. The light under the canopy of trees is beyond words. We walk in awe and brilliant beauty.

And I say to myself, “I wish I could share this with everyone.”

We travel in solitude with time and tide. Our schedule is predicated upon the will of the wind. We can only go when Momma Nature nods her head as we are at complete mercy of her whim. She often acts like an adolescent; her mood changes in an instant, so awareness is key.

Full sails are a rarity; the winds are too powerful and build in the blink of an eye.
A 40-mile passage is a seven-hour day of nothingness; it gives way to the things buried deep in the subconscious.  Thinking, forever thinking – I call it “sea therapy”  – you can’t run, you can’t hide; you are called to the mat until the smallest object catches the eye.  Heightened sensitivity to the little things are imperative, they are omens of sea state, wind direction and unseen life below the water. 

Every now-and-then a school of dolphins will come play in our wake. They taunt, they arc, and they race our hull and peel off as quickly as they appear. Nearing shore the Yellow-footed Boobies try to land on our rigging, sometimes they make it, sometimes they don’t and the effort they make to land is exhausting to witness.

I bring my attention back to the sunrise – the magnificent sunrise, it never gets old. 
And I write:

I love the way the morning gently takes away the darkness and no one questions its motives.
I love the gap, that momentary gap where day and night are not defined.
I love the way moon knows how powerful it is no matter how much of itself it is showing.
I love the wisdom of the soil, layered and majestic – there are stories, many untold stories.
I love how trees reach for the light and cede to the wind.
I love the unimportant that is wildly important
I love it all, and we dance…  (dl)

Saturday, July 9, 2016


Today I lapsed into a spiritual coma.
My mind was full - too full and I felt stuck. Time to purge, release, step back, assess and get ready for the next surge of information.  

I wonder about my agitation, restlessness, in and out of felicity. I wonder about the nagging of my heart that wants a taste of something but what is it?
Nothing tangible, nothing real, and nothing to say or do, I can’t put words to it.

Then I view the morning clouds and the light in the sky, it changes everything,

The rays are pouring through in a perfect stream. The stream…. yes, this is what I am missing. The stream of consciousness that I tend to forget until extreme beauty is in front of me in all of its glory. The stream that flows is the connection to spirit and the stream that believes in my purpose.

That is what I was missing and all it took to inspire. 

The understated immenseness of what is around me. How could the light make such a difference? It is magic for me - the light went straight to the heart center.  

I see now as I go through my days in a daze, it is important to confront my feelings, to talk to the heart stream and listen to the fluidity of the wind.

We are infants in our understanding and our control... until we connect to source and source is here to grow us up, guide, and direct our understanding. This is the personal and direct line to inner happiness.

Wake up. Find your Stream, your pool, your river to dip into and get soaked in the information that surrounds you. Then... say thank you. Quietly or aloud, you will be heard. (DL)