Omens and auguries usually don’t influence me. Yet on this early morning as I walked briskly down Perimeter Road on Isla Mujeres and saw the darkness of night above me and the first faint hints of daylight on the horizon ahead, and spotted the bright point of a morning star shining in the zone between last darkness and first light, I couldn’t help but to feel that the star was a positive omen for my upcoming sit spot.

A few minutes later I strode into the sculpture park at Punta Sur where my attention was grabbed by a row of five tall human sculptures, figures that I had viewed before without any particular reaction. But now, back lit by first light these tall human-like forms looked alive, looked like pilgrims with heads bowed prayerfully to the rising, nurturing, life-giving sun. Another positive sign for the session ahead I thought.

The walk to the sit spot in predawn light was filled with possibilities. This interval with one foot lingering in dreamland and the other stepping into daytime was a time to tune the senses and attune the sensibilities.

I paid my 30 pesos to the watchman who was alertly patrolling the park. The admission booth wasn’t open, but he knew that Punta Sur Sculpture Park, the eastern-most point in Mexico, the first speck of Mexican land to be touched by sunlight, was a favorite spot for tourists from all nations who were eager to be the first to see the sun rise over the Caribbean.

I walked carefully down the rough carved stone steps to a narrow sandy trail that ran along the edge of a cliff facing the sea. I found the brown rectangular plaque written in Spanish and English that marked the exact easternmost spot of Mexico. Today I hoped to be among the first to see the sunrise.

Sitting under the plaque I leaned back against the rocks and looked and listened as the predawn light steadily spread into the sky. The gray surface of the Caribbean was patterned with choppy waves and long rollers. I watched the waves crash onto the rocks below and looked at the swirls of foam and strands of translucent spray that flew into the air. I heard the splash and thump of the waves onto the rocks. I inhaled the fresh salty smell of ocean air. I felt the fresh, balmy tropical air touch my face.

A little flock of sandpipers, long, sharp, angled wings beating rapidly, flying in tight synchrony, scurried around the point and winged north along the shoreline. It was a brief sighting, mere seconds, but I was glad to have seen this sign of morning life amidst the rocks and waves. Two snow white terns flew above the water, long slender wings flapping steadily, eyes scanning the surface for fish, poised to plunge to the sea; more birds beginning their day of flying, searching and feeding.

I checked my watch and realized with a feeling of anticipation that in a few minutes the sun would rise. But when I looked out through the rickety rail fence that edged the cliff all I saw was a thick bank of gray clouds clumped above the horizon. Disappointed, I realized that there would be no spectacular tropical sunrise show on this morning.

I shifted my gaze out to the sea, to the roiling, rolling gray water.  Glancing to the northeast I was surprised to see a blaze of butter yellow surrounded by feathery swirls of pink. The colors of today’s sunrise were expressed in reflected light. I savored this morning light show and felt like another nature lesson had been given; a lesson to look in the less likely direction, a reminder to consider the beauty of reflected light. I returned my gaze to the sea.

Punta Sur, the south point of the island, created a turbulent zone where the rollers of the Caribbean met the outflow from the broad bay between Isla Mujeres and the Cancun mainland. Strong currents swept to the north. Sea breezes stirred the surface. This was no place to swim.

I studied the waves breaking on the rocks below. Each wave broke in a different pattern, created different swirls of foam, different sprays of froth. Each wave created a different sound, a different cadence and volume of splashes and thumps. One could, I realized, stare at the breaking waves and never see the same pattern, never hear the same sequence of sounds.

A small fishing boat edged around the point. This seemed a risky spot for such a small craft, a dangerous location to catch fish. I watched as the little boat was tossed up and down by the waves and pulled to and fro by the current. The helmsmen feathered a cautious course through the choppy water. Sometimes the bow lifted and then thumped against the water, sometimes the stern raised up and the propeller churned the air.

With a bit of my consciousness still clinging to the dream world, I couldn’t help but to see the boat as a metaphor for a person’s life; a small craft floating on a vast ocean trying to plot a course through a turbulent sea of circumstance. I began to silently root for the helmsman, to cheer his progress. I felt a sense of relief when he made it through the rough water and steered into the lee of the point, into calmer water where the crew quickly began to drop nets.

There were other people at Punta Sur. A father kept a sharp eye on his young son who kept edging closer and closer to the flimsy fence that guarded the cliff edge. I’m not sure either took in the sunrise, yet they shared a morning experience. Two young women took turns photographing each other using the sea and the sky as a back drop. A young couple exuding the energy of connection tried to take a selfie portrait.

It was a moment to interrupt my sit spot. My offer to take their picture was happily accepted. The young woman, dressed in white, seemed glad to use her proficient English to explain that they lived in Puebla and were on vacation on Isla. I managed, after a few tries, to get a good portrait, a young couple, starting their life together, surrounded by sea, sky, rocks, and waves.

Returning to my sit spot I looked again towards the sunrise. Beams of sunlight suddenly broke through the clouds, like spotlights illuminating an ocean stage. A pair of seagulls, performers entering stage right, flapped regally through the beams of sunlight. Their pure white plumage, their graceful flight, illuminated brilliantly. I watched the sunbeams shift and trace across the water, disappear and reappear.

I realized that I had seen a beautiful sunrise after all, maybe not the brilliant layers of color I had expected, but a very satisfying reflected, delayed, unique and memorable sunrise. There was value in sitting for a full hour and watching the morning unfold.

The sun pushed above the layer of clouds and shone directly on me. Instantly I felt warmth on my face, shoulders and chest. Something about those first rays of sunshine always felt welcoming.

Around me the day seemed to suddenly shift, the air quickly growing warm, small birds fluttering in and out of the nearby bushes, frigate birds sailing high above, gulls crying. The waters of the Caribbean, now bathed in direct sunlight, began to display shades of blue; sky blue, turquoise, indigo, powder blue, green-blue, and pale blue.

I packed up my gear, climbed up the stairs and walked past the row of five human-like sculptures that now looked tall, rusty, angular, and absorbed into the routine of the day. I continued back through the sculpture park, past the still closed craft shops, past the statue of a huge iguana, past the statue of Ixchel, the Mayan fertility goddess, and back onto Perimeter Avenue.

My destination was my sister-in law and her husband’s cozy second story apartment named Casa Colibri. Soon I would sit on the second story balcony, munch granola and yogurt, sip a cup of Oaxaca coffee, gaze at the blue hues of the Caribbean, listen to the sea breeze rustle the palm fronds, and hear the songs of the mockingbirds and the clacks and whistles of the great-tailed grackles.

This sit spot was conducted on February 12, 2019.

To read more about the sit spot experience take a look at my book, The Stillness of the Living Forest: A Year of Listening and Learning. The book is available on Amazon at this link: https://www.amazon.com/Stillness-Living-Forest-Listening-Learning/dp/1947067591/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1LVLRM34X5B9H&keywords=the+stillness+of+the+living+forest&qid=1553910188&s=gateway&sprefix=the+stilness%2Caps%2C149&sr=8-1