Wind. Water. And the moment that opens.
Each day we take our “Tiki Tour” on Tao—our trusty runabout—slipping into caverns and gorges that only reveal themselves when the sea is calm.
In rough water, these places are closed. In stillness, they open.
There’s a particular thrill in it:
— gliding close to sheer cliffs
— easing through rock chambers as the gentle surge carries us forward
— hovering over fish boils, peering into crystal-blue clarity|
— blue-iridescent fish life flashing like a living constellation… scattering from the unseen predator below.
From this beloved bay, I delivered my final Feng Shui Mentorship session for the year—my senior Apprentices sharing the view with me. Not just casework… but 𝗮 𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝗶𝗻 𝘀𝗽𝗮𝗰𝗲, 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗴𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗽𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗲.
Then we headed out:
- to fish the outer reaches of the protected waters (no fish today—so be it),
- and onward to the gannet colony—fully grown chicks, still begging like the world depends on it.
Back in the bay, two boats arrived and the anchorage suddenly felt full.
So we did what the sea trains you to do: move—without attachment—from one place where Qi gathers to another.
We relocated to a secluded anchorage we’d explored earlier—so tucked away we set a stern anchor to hold position (no wide swinging on the tide). A small skill… that changes everything: “to go where no vessels have gone before” – secure, safety, sanctuary.
And then—because nothing in open ocean is constant—wind shifted, a southwest swell pushed into our channel… and it was time to move again – no attachment, listen to the ocean and winds.
So: up anchor, a quiet farewell. Back to the first anchorage—naturally sheltered—all to ourselves this time. To take it all in, rejuvenate, work, play… and head out again when the water offers its next opening.
And you—what restores you back to centre?
Do you reset through water, mountain, garden, silence, movement… or something else?
(I’d love to hear your joy.)
Master Boon
