At the Edge of the Ocean

I find myself in Big Sur, on what seems like the edge of the earth. A fertile place to be, particularly in the middle an eclipse cycle! And a fertile place in general, being that particular ecotone where mountain ecology meets a gigantic ocean system, and the two must reconcile the presence of the other in some form or fashion. The elements of earth and water are friendly in the Vedic system of thought, so what is produced lends itself to a lot of life (contrast this to, say, water and fire which are unfriendly and whose outcome can be witnessed when volcanic runoff sizzles into the ocean). Green abounds—the color of the planet Mercury (ruling the earth element) and of life—and of course that ethereal oceanic blue which pushes one toward existential contemplation.

The sign in the Zodiac which is described by (or describes) the ocean is Pisces, symbolized by two fish. This is also the sign of so called “final liberation” or moksha, our exit from the earthly round of existence which has been the Indian ideal. Witnessing the power and potential contained in this enormous body of water called the Pacific Ocean, this historical association of oceans with liberation makes perfect sense, as that type of release from the rounds of rebirth requires complete surrender into the totality of experience; not one ounce of resistance to things as they are, including the sharpest pain and deepest fear.

Having stood at the shore again today, watching the waves gain strength as they speed towards land (and my legs), and having felt even the softest edge of the power of the pull into its body (and having lost my footing more than once) I begin to wonder into what type of psychology or spiritual preparation would be required to enter into that larger body with not one ounce of resistance, allowing oneself to be at the mercury of its intelligence and to be moving toward a horizon which does not reveal the nature of the yonder shore. We can only get ideas from the accounts of others who have gone that way before (such as the Rishis who composed the Vedas, or the saints and sages who have experienced spiritual awakenings). Daunting, to be sure. But a wonderful way to conceptualize, and play at the edge of, complete surrender to life and its many turbulent waves.

Going further: each individual’s relationship with this type of release and surrender will be described partly by where the sign of Pisces falls in their chart (if it is in the 12th house of natural surrender and sleep, for example, it may come quite naturally, but if it is in the 6th house of enemies and obstacles it may be incredibly difficult for them to let go) and planets they have placed there. So we each come in with certain karmic makeups which color the way we move through life in regards to our level of tension and resistance again events (inner and outer) which come our way. This is good information, since more and more it seems that what one experiences is less important than how one experiences it.

A look at the birth chart can be helpful in this regard, no only because it tells us something about how much an individual has tied themself up into a knot of inner conflict with the realities of life, but also because knowing that what is happening was written in the sky at the moment of birth reminds us of the futility of resistance. We are inside a story that is playing out through us, whose major troughs and crests and feeling tones came in with us. Our task is not to try to re-write the story (an impossible one) but to understand where we are in it and gracefully improvise inside the plot. The grace, of course, comes with surrendering to what is. Only then can one be tuned in enough to the subtleties of tone in their own life to know what note might add the right spark of beauty—the beauty that makes life worth living.