“If you want to swim with dolphins, they’re headed your way,” my neighbor called to tell me. I grabbed sunglasses on my way out the door. From the bluff I could already see them, four dark shapes moving sometimes in unison, sometimes in sequence but always in perfect energetic flow.
I was tempted to grab a swimsuit and camera, but these wild ones don’t especially like company. Instead I sat on the wood bench perched on the bluff’s edge and watched them swim by.
It’s like a breath, the way they move, first arcing above, then disappearing beneath the water’s rippled surface. One minute they look like a polished quartet of Sea World stars, then one dolphin nudges another and choreography dissolves into play. Through it all, they’re probably chattering, that clicking rap that lands somewhere between whistle and R2D2. Blink again and four dorsal fins are lined up as one before diving deep this time, and out of sight.
Next time you do a sun salutation, try channeling the gentle miracle of dolphin. Let your breath find full expression in movement linked with play, fluidity and some silliness. Imagine you’re underwater and feel its cooling support. Shiver. Swan dive into standing forward bend. Undulate between down and up dog. Flick some water onto your mat.
Listen for the sound of nearby dolphins and your own laughter.