Borderless

On March 3rd, the 183rd day of our 183-day travel visa, our group of six volunteers crossed the border into Ecuador and re-entered Peru with the official stamp of approval that, yes, we can stay.

The relative ease with which we crossed the border is a privilege that many do not experience. What for us was an adventure is a nightmare for countless others who encounter borders across the world – Israel and Palestine, Mexico and the U.S.

While our experience was thankfully uneventful, I still carried a feeling of emptiness as we waited at each checkpoint, imagining us all as mechanical robots in an assembly line, identified only by our country of origin and a nine digit ID number.

The process left me questioning how much humanity is lost in an effort to reinforce boundaries and achieve security.

Then, as if transported to another realm of existence, we arrived back at our private beach house, where we spent our mid-year retreat. This tranquil paradise in a sleepy fishing town outside of Máncora, allowed us time and space to relax, reflect and recommit ourselves to our work in Peru.

I accepted that I really did need a break and embraced all the restorative qualities of our tropical environment. What I enjoyed most was feeling immersed in nature, amidst the borderless, boundless surroundings of sand, air and ocean.

In the morning, miles of desolate undisturbed sand made my foot prints seem like the first steps on the moon. Misty clouds dissipated by mid-morning, leaving a true blue sky dome as we each walked along Katie’s sand labyrinth.

Afternoons brought reckless ocean waves that engulfed us even when we saw them coming. As we waited for each salty deluge, clans of pelicans would sweep down just barely skimming the surface of the water with their heavy bellies.

Higher in the sky, perfect formations of geese flew north for the southern winter, reminding me of the inverse cycle of my current hemisphere.

In this equatorial sky, the moon fills from left to right and the big dipper appears in an entirely new celestial space than I’m used to.

The nighttime tide was at times terrifying – an endless black abyss suddenly shattered by horizontal lightening streaks ripping through the darkness. As each white arch crashed, I had just moments to escape before it caught up with me walking along the sand.

Then, a new discovery…

Walking along the shore with Leslie one evening, she pointed out flashes of light in the foamy water around our toes. She explained that tiny floating plankton emit light when disturbed by the moving currents. After feeling assured that I wouldn’t be electrocuted, I observed these mysterious creatures with intense curiosity and awe – clusters that resembled marine fireflies or floating diamonds.

The timelessness and inhibition of our surroundings seemed unreal. When so much of our lives are limited by the boundaries we create, it seems so unfamiliar, almost unbelievable, when we actually feel… free.

During the past week, as I observed and felt the cycle of daylight, moonlight, high tide, low tide and birds flying north along their internal map, I was reminded that the only real borders are those that G-d has created – sacred schedules and natural boundaries that bring freedom, rather than limit it.