M
y body rests heavily on deck.
The sun is high in the sky and the wind seems to be rising. It fills the sail with energy that moves the boat forward. Or at least that is what the radar indicates.
On a sea wide open in all directions, one has the feeling of not moving anywhere.
A roaring sea is heard behind Nora’s and Janek’s discussion. They are speaking English but the language feels incomprehensible: hoist the mainsail and then shorten it. Winch and stow the cordage. Navigation and logs are to be updated etc. My hearing tunes out the information not intended for me just now.
I glance to my right where Bo appears to have fallen asleep next to me. The sun colours his face and bare upper body the same rosy red as his Thai trousers.
His water bottle rolls on deck a bit from us.
I shake his shoulder carefully and quietly tell him he ought to go below deck to sleep so he won’t get sunburned.
He covers his face with his batik shawl.
“Is that a compass you’ve tattooed on your shoulder?” I ask although I know the answer.
“Yes, that’s right.” he mumbles under the shawl.
I try to let him rest but instead continue persistently, as I consciously or subconsciously often do when I intuitively feel someone knows something I need to know.
“I expect you didn’t tattoo it to remember the points of the compass…”
His reply is delayed. My restless fingers attempt to untangle my salty hair.
“I’m born in the north where I never found what I was looking for. In the end, I got anxiety from the people I grew up with and was surrounded by. I had enough of the arrogance, stupid narrowmindedness and drama. I thought I would feel more at home in the south, amongst more ‘hot-blooded’ souls. Or maybe east, where much old wisdom could be learnt from the enlightened masters, or in the west where the wind could open all closed doors.”
He pauses, draws up his knees and places one knee over the other on the boat deck before he continues.
“But what I was searching for couldn’t be found in any direction. My greatest lesson during those years traveling was that what I am searching for is to be found within me, that is what the star in the centre of the compass symbolises.”
“That was how I interpreted your tattoo.”
I examine it and hesitate with the question which demands an answer I don’t believe he has.
“Is that true? Then you are the first and believe me I’ve had to explain this tattoo’s meaning more than once since I got it a year ago!”
“One thing I’ve been wondering, without criticising in any way, but why is the star in the middle black if it symbolises light?”
For the first time, he looks out from under the shawl and regards me.
“What colour is one’s soul, my friend?”
Behind his lucid gaze is not, perhaps, the response I’m searching for, but I discern a friend who can be trusted.
“I don’t know.”
I pause when a wave splashes upon the deck. I Wipe the salt from my face and continue, “Once I took an aura photo at a Tarot card reader. The entire photo was yellowish white. The Tarot woman implied it was my old soul that made the picture yellow and that she therefore couldn’t read my aura.”
We laugh after a short quiet pause.
Don’t know if it’s due to yet another wave that splashes us both, or because of what I just told him. But it doesn’t matter. It was a long time since I laughed and the pain in my chest is a small price to pay.
“So you believe the soul is yellow… or white?” he asks sincerely.
I wipe the water from my face again and raise a hand to my forehead as protection for my eyes.
"In my most challenging moments, I have once in a while experienced it as a light shining within, a sort of internal burning white light.
"That fire burns all arrogance, all confusion, all illusion, all feelings of detachment and discord.
"It burns away who you are not and leaves who you are.
“God’s white fire, or if you like, the colour of the soul.”