Here at the lagoon – the end of a beautiful day – I sit on the stoep of the old visserman’s huis at sunset watching the receding tide – thinking about the times we’ve been here – the years spent sitting here – the countless people who’ve passed this way before – and especially those, who like Pete have loved this lagoon and now see it from the other side.
Here at the lagoon, I sit feeling small and insignificant yet connected to it all – and accept afresh that our lives have their own ebb and flow – that nothing stays the same – that everything flows and answers to a higher lunar power.
Here at the lagoon, I sit in the evening breeze and acknowledge that the wind blows when and where it likes – and that our lives are like the flowers of the droë veld – we blossom one day and then the wind blows over us and we are gone.
Here, in the chilly southern breeze I sit and remember Pete who has sailed that Great Wind – and I feel deeply my many vulnerabilities – that we are but sojourners – wanderers along the shores of life – as impermanent as were our fore-bearers like Mrs Ples a million years ago and others since, who walked places like this in search of life.
Here in the evening light, I sit and watch the lagoon – and I’m reminded of the words of Antonio Machado who sought to teach us that we all are wanderers on the road, and that the road is made by walking. “By walking”, he said, “one makes the road, and upon glancing behind one sees the path that never will be trod again.”
And so, sitting here – at the lagoon – watching, remembering and thinking, I’m grateful for the wonder of life as it parades past me – for the path I am walking that will never be trod again – I’m moved by the life of all who like Pete loved their path and walked it so fully – I’m nurtured by the sense of connectedness to all that is around me – and I’m challenged by the vulnerability, the impermanence of life that keeps me humble and watching and thinking and remembering.