Zen Sharks

When you fly into the town, your eyes scrape across the arid desert countryside – catching on scraggly bush, rocky outcroppings, and dusty sheep. And then, in complete contrast, you’ll hit the ocean. Clear and bright azure, the Pacific poignantly outlines the edges of Australia – you’ve come to Exmouth.

Steve and I arrived in this mysterious, far-removed place on Friday afternoon. On the shuttle ride from the airport into the small outcropping of buildings that calls itself a town, I could barely stifle a laugh. Gone is the North American ideal of a perfectly manicured lawn. In fact, despite some beautiful housing, the place comes off like it’s a perpetual construction site. Quite simply, it’s all hot and beach and no one really bothers to kick a stray rock off their property or trim a few random patches here and there. Exmouth doesn't pretend to be anything. No one is keeping up with the Jones’ and you deal with what the land gives you. What’s beautiful is that everyone seems content.

Try as I might, I probably won’t be able to explain the vibe to you. You’ll just have to go there.

Anyway, our story begins here; this desolate yet comfortably happy town.  Checking into the Potshot Hotel Resort was sort of like picking up the keys to your new place in the shantytowns of Tijuana. The backpacker rooms were basically a large rectangular tin shed dissected into separate compartments. Dirt, tin, sunshine. We were missing beer. Quickly picking up a 30 pack of Emu Lager, we settled out front of room #80 to relax.

This night was an early one because we had a monumental day planned for the next. We slept with the lullaby of party raging backpackers sending us into an anticipation-charged sleep.

Then Saturday, we swam with whale sharks.

I’m finding it hard to give this experience justice as well; such a special, particular event that I can’t compare norms to. I can’t think of anything that relates, because there is nothing. I can only try to tell you about the buzz that is running through your body as you leap off the back of a boat into the deep blue ocean to swim with a giant. I can only scrape the surface of describing how it takes your breath away when you see it emerge from the murky plankton filled sea and appear, as if in a dream, into the frame of your snorkel mask.  And the only way I can compare swimming with the spotty sharks is with that of meditation. Their slow, easy sashay pretty much entrances you as you tour alongside for a little while – forgetting any and every trouble in the world, forming your mind around the simplicity of life itself and the beauty that nature extends to us. You just have to pay attention once and a while.

Our journey home was exhausting; we were shuttled back into harsh reality when we took the red eye flight

Live for the moment

from Perth back to Melbourne and arrived at 4 am with a whole work day looming ahead. Yet, all the while: sleeping on the airport floor, slurping a coffee on the train, groggily trying to teach music all day – life seemed a little readjusted. There is such magnificence and goodness, not only in our daily lives, but especially in the extraordinary experiences we have. So often we let this magic drain from our memories too quickly. I think we need to savour it. Marinate in that special feeling it gives to us, hold it close for a while, and bring it up to the surface when the mundane and routine phases of life dull our days. 

Perhaps the whole experience wasn't just a touristy occasion - maybe there’s a lesson here we can all learn from.

Oh, and whale sharks smile. 

Have a fabulous day, friends J !