Letting Go in the Kingdom of Tonga

     This was an essay written for my intro to college writing course. 

beach on south side of Tapana

     The rusted machete fell with a crack I could hear over the engine and the sound of the waves crashing against the crowded boat.  The blade raised again in the air and fell with another crack as the rust became wet.  The third time the knife fell it successfully dislodged the top of the coconut.  With a genuine smile Pita, the hired hand of my travel companion’s family, handed me the seed overflowing with milk.

I took a sip, smiled, raised the coconut and said, “Malo.”  Pita continued to crack the tops off the coconuts for the rest of the family.   Our boat rocked back and forth while I sipped on the sweet milk, I looked out over the ocean to see islands dotting the horizon.  It had been just over a week since I had arrived in Vava’u, the northern most island group in the Kingdom of Tonga, and now I was going to be camping for two days on the island of Tapana. 

Three years prior to this moment I departed from the religious magical thinking I was raised around.  The pivotal decision to leave the religion of my family caused me to leave all that I knew in search for greater personal truth.  My search for a spiritual authenticity that fit with who I was had led to me lightly practice mindfulness and meditation. My journey also led me to many new people and experiences, like my friend Michael whom I was traveling with. 

I finished the coconut milk and began to relax.  The sound of the engine, the conversations, and rocking of the boat began to fall into the background and I was able to appreciate my surroundings.  Soon enough we had come around the north corner of a small island.  Pita jumped off the boat to secure it, and our camping gear along with two sea kayaks were unloaded.  

As soon as our things were on the beach, we said our goodbyes and our family was headed back to Neiafu, the main island in the Vava’u group.   We were alone with the ocean and the beach, the sounds of the water, and I felt like I was at home. 

Being a Utah native, landlocked for much of my life, being near an ocean is breathtaking experience, and I wasted no time to get in the ocean after our tents were set up.  Every ten or fifteen feet there was another mound of coral, each a miniature eco system under the water.  There were plants moving back and forth with the tide, fish of every possible color surrounded me, and poisonous vana with small fish darting between its sharp spines.  After hours of swimming the water began to cool and I knew the sun was setting.

The sky was turning a deep orange, sunburned and exhausted I sat on the beach.  In an attempt to meditate I recognized my breath, and began to look out over the ocean.  The sound of the waves brought me back to my breath as the splendor of the scene became overwhelming.  My natural instinct was to try to cling to the beauty, to make it last, to keep it as long as I could.  However, I went against my human conditioning, I let my self feel the impermanence of the scenery and let it go. Only then did I fully experience beauty for the first time in my life. 

Tapana Island