I had no camera with me. But even if I had, what it would have captured could never be what I saw. Eight white pelicans in a circle, like synchronized swimmers, diving into shallow waters. Their rear ends sticking up like capsized boats, their wings, half submerged. They kept diving, greedily, and yet, this greed did not detract from the grace of their synchronized movements.
Some of us in the group watched the pelicans, while the others took turns helping in the kitchen. We gathered at this lovely spot, a house by a lagoon, to take a cooking lesson. We were to learn how to make some of the dishes that made our recent yoga retreat also such a culinary treat.
We roasted peppers, we chopped tomatoes, we whipped up sauces, all in a whirl. We were in a rush, so grace was not on our mind. The resident dog, a beagle, kept an eye on us, but after a while, she retreated to her bed in the corner, pulling a blanket over herself. Apparently she is quite adept at this maneuver.
By the time we sat down to eat at the table on the deck, the pelicans have stopped their feeding dance and were floating in random patterns on the shifting tides echoing through the lagoon. If they watched us, I doubt that they bothered themselves about the way we bobbed our heads over our plates. There was nothing synchronized about any of our movements or voices in conversations.
Above us, the clouds that have been hanging around for the better part of the week, relented and began to drift eastward, leaving a brilliant light in their wake. That’s when it came to me: here is a moment like no other in a world like no other. Some would call it grace. Others beauty. Or gratitude. All I could think of was here is now. But of course, the moment I thought that, it passed.
