In a tortoise shell–may I (re)possess ‘home’?

4:30 am. I lie in bed, dozing, after  being woken up an hour earlier by a dream of white flowers laid for worship of Swami.   In dream reality, as I sniff their dense white petals with brown-yellow centers, the flowers bloom afresh although they’ve lain in a bowl for three whole days.  As I bumble about on waking in the dark rooms, a refrain drums through my head:  “Flames to dust/ Lovers to friends/ Why do all good things come to an end, end, end…” Unable to identify the song, or the singer, I remember a nasal, insistent, woman’s croon.  Later, I identify the song as one of  Nelly Furtado‘s, an apt elegy for my Goan interlude. [http://grooveshark.com/#!/search/song?q=Nelly%20Furtado%20All%20Good%20Things]

Traveling I only stop at exits
Wondering if I’ll stay….
I want to pull away when the dream dies
The pain sets in and I don’t cry
I only feel gravity and I wonder why

Flames to dust
Lovers to friends
Why do all good things come to an end
Flames to dust
Lovers to friends

Why do all good things come to an end
come to an end come to an
Why do all good things come to end?
come to an end come to an
Why do all good things come to an end?

Well the dogs were whistling a new tune
Barking at the new moon
Hoping it would come soon so that they could….
Die die die die die

A dream of sacred flowers to background music from Furtado on barking dogs lends a surreal tinge to the pre-dawn scenario on the day I pack up.   Reaching Varca beach earlier than usual, I  find waves frothing at the white sands, high tide today.  The sea welcomes me,  waves rise to greet me.  As in all love, I have to find my boundaries–how deep in I am comfortable.  I let the water tug at me, but remain near the shore.

Rip currents are common along Goa beaches, pulling one straight out into the sea. Maybe one final day, all boundaries unheeded, I will let the seas engulf me, physically and mentally. But, no, I am not ready yet for that release, that great tide of love that will set me free. Still bound, I am not free of convention, or social diktat, no matter my private furies.

Standing there near the shore, feeling the the tide, I mark a lone fisherman pulling his catamaran out over the breakers, slowly with effort, out into the open sea. catamaran[The image shows two fishermen carrying the catamaran out to sea, but the boat seen is the nearest I could find on Google to the log boat that I saw.] I contemplate his lone journey, as he finally reaches deep water and clambers onto the logs, paddling, poling out out into the open sea. Out there, he is a speck, on his solitary quest for fish: all the other, bigger boats form an almost invisible line way out on the horizon. I wish, then, that I had a camera on my cellphone, that I may record the last sight of the beach for now, adorned by that small speck.

People here and elsewhere often ask me,

“why don’t you get yourself a smartphone? You can be on the net anytime, and you’d have a camera to take snaps.”

Another common query, particularly in this tourist state is,

“why don’t you buy a flat instead of wasting money renting one? That way, you can fix it up the way you want, and it would be an investment.”

Those ‘ands’ accent the common mindsets behind the two questions.  A smartphone and a flat may look unrelated, but, I am sensitive to the economy of ownership that motivates both queries.  Rather, I yearn to live like a tortoise, carrying my home in a shell on my back. At any sign of threat, I’d retreat into that shell.  When writing a earlier blog on shells [see https://quiescentbeing.wordpress.com/2013/03/12/spiral-shells-along-the-mindshore ], I happened upon J. Atherton’s observations on types of skeletons and societies,

The Skeleton view holds that people are normally expected to live on the basis of their own internal resources, contained within their own bodies. They find the basis of their self-hood inside themselves, and the structure for their lives from within.
The Shell view suggests that the individual can only find a meaningful structure for life with reference to something external, and that there is no adequate basis internally on which to base rules, judgements or performance.
These tendencies may be different, but they do not have to be in opposition. They may be complementary: Eastern societies have traditionally been better than Western at handling such complementarity. [http://www.doceo.co.uk/original/skeleton_and_shell_1.htm]

Atherton suggests that the labels of ‘skeleton’ and ‘shell’ societies may prove simplistic, noting also that the categories are complementary. But, when I attempt to explain why the tortoise is a personal symbol, his description provides a starting point. TortoiseLiving without possessions heralds freedom for me. Is this because I see a breathing universe which holds all beings, animate and inanimate, equally?  If  humans are merely one species amongst others, how may we, humans, ‘own’ things and ensure security?  Aren’t we perpetually dependent on the goodwill of a cosmos with its cycle of death, flood, hurricane, famine, tsunami? The pagans saw gods everywhere, in every tree, rock, and stream, and sought to placate them with offerings, human, animal, or plant.  In today’s industrial world, danger lurks in every corner, but, so equally, does joy.  Both unsought for, each seizes us most when we are unaware. How do we assure of ourselves of either, though we seek them under umbrellas of adventure or happiness?

I  possess a basic cellphone for my needs, to make and receive calls and messages.  Even if I carelessly leave the phone behind, the calls are duly recorded and displayed when I reach home.  Often, I’m not in a mood to respond to cursory chats, disinclined to talk about folks and their doings.  As for flats, houses, or bungalows, why, owning one is simply too much work.  I’d have to maintain the place, fill out paperwork,  file taxes, worry about thieves and so on and on.  A basic phone, I can leave around, I don’t lose much if someone bothers to swipe the thing.  I don’t need to think about it.  A rented flat, I don’t have to furnish it, nor do I need to dress it up.  To rent is to be able to move out without too much bother.   I am happy not to ‘own,’ to think about things that cost too much when I need much less to live.  ‘Owning’ less, I am freer to drift, tied to no-one and no-thing.

The sight of that lonely catamaran has me surfing Google for an image that others have recorded. I am grateful to the world wide web. I need record nothing.   I merely cut and paste. When I blog I leave my words free.   Grie Verd is content to drift in the cloud, my words open to different readers and different meanings.

 

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