Friday, April 10, 2009


There are no roads leading into Broome. One flies in or comes in by boat. It is on the Indian Ocean where the ocean waters in February are as warm as body temperature. One simply walks into the surf from the air temperature of about 100 degrees Fahrenheit. It feels like soothing therapy. Broome is in far northwestern Australia. Our year was ending and we would be leaving soon. Jim had read a book about a remote place called Broome. It had intrigued him. We booked tickets and went.

From the first moment of stepping from the small charter Twin Otter I knew that this place was different. We were taken to a little hut close to the beach. I could see we would have company during our visit. Hundreds of little tree frogs inhabited the place. They slept with us, ate with us, bathed with us, and hung out with us. They were happy companions.

The whole place was incredible. We’d never seen or felt anything like it. We instinctively spoke quietly as if our voices would disturb the sacred spell. The ocean was enormously huge. The red earth behind us was vast and pure. The sky was deep overhead. The sky, the land, and the ocean were timeless, suspended in the universe.

One morning early just a dawn was breaking I heard someone call my name. In my pajama tee shirt I went outside. The world was mine. But I was not alone. There was something or someone near. I could feel a soft presence. It filled my whole self as I walked across the sand with the dune grass waving a gentle hello. Then I heard singing, an otherworldly music like bells far away. It surrounded me. Standing still I took it in. Looking for the source I realized that it was coming from the grass. The grass in this vast landscape was singing. I held my breath. Then let it out in a long exhale. The grass bowed and continued to sing.

Was it for me alone? I don’t know but my heart was touched that beautiful morning on our beautiful earth.

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