Saint or Siren?
I’m currently navigating the reality of relationships, while pondering transcendental experiences.
Almost a decade ago, I was fortunate enough to spend some time traveling the Basque region, a place that I still think about often. I was dating a surfer-lawyer at the time, who introduced me to various point breaks, one of which was the dramatic La Côte Basque. We stayed at a hotel right on the beach, set into the cliff, with sea-view rooms and faded 70’s decor. The rooms had a double set of patio doors, which puzzled me at first. The beach was always spotless because the tide would swallow it whole every night while bashing itself against the rocks, and then withdraw silently at daybreak, leaving a silky smooth plage.
The first couple nights, we slept with both sets of patio doors open, for air. The Atlantic was peaceful at first, lulling us into a false sense of security, yet by mid week the ocean was so loud I’d swear we were on a rock-crashing vessel. The sea sound was spectacular… double patio door mystery solved!
The thing is, I’m not entirely convinced that was the only reason for the added security. On the second night while sound asleep, the sea breeze whispering over our skin, I was awoken by a female singing-voice in my ear. Her song, while exquisitely beautiful, mesmerizing even, had strong undercurrents of melancholy, menace, and dare I say it… jealousy. She sung me into a semi-conscious wakefulness, whereby I could sense her presence hovering no more than a couple feet directly above me, while mirroring my horizontal position.
I woke up in a cold sweat.
On the third night, I experienced what probably still stands as one of my worst nightmares to this day, connected with the welfare of my family. This time I was inconsolable. At sunrise, I rang my folks to make sure that they were all ok. I’m not one for phone-calls at the best of times, so naturally they were curious as to why I felt compelled to contact them while on holiday. Having explained the haunting experiences, my brother pointed out that perhaps I had come into contact with a siren of the sea. I had no idea what he was talking about, and so he explained the legend of the sirens luring mariners to their death with their irresistible music. I was shaken, and yet utterly astonished.
My surfer-lawyer boyfriend had a very pure, highly profound connection with the ocean; that was his church, and my presence at the altar was clearly not welcomed by this particular spirit. Needless to say, the double set of patio doors stayed firmly closed from there on in, sending our own message that we were not to be disturbed.
It did the job.
I got to pondering on this decade-old experience. We all hear the music, in our own particular way. It may play intermittently, or perhaps it only sounds once through a single window of opportunity. But it is our life-blood, joy and passion, it sets our hearts on fire and it’s what makes us feel most alive, but how can we tell the difference between the songs that will ultimately elevate us, and those that send us crashing into the rocks? How do we tell the difference between the Saint and the Siren?
I suspect the Saint is the silent one.
V
∞
Ψ
p.s. the numerological date: 11.1.11
