Den fjerde revle.

Som han sad der, højt oppe i klitten halvt begravet i sand som var pyntet med marehalm hist og her, havde han et vidunderligt udsyn over havet. Ingen træer, ingen lygtepæle og ingen huse stod i vejen.

Han kunne drikke udsigten, direkte som den var. Mere økologisk kunne det næppe blive, og så længe det var uden for turistsæsonen, kunne han have det for sig selv, og stranden blev ikke fyldt med en masse efterladenskaber som ville forstyrre den mentale renhed han  følte både inderst og yderst, øverst og nederst.

Hans blik holdt sig mest til horisonten. Det var der, det sneede, det var der alle eventyrs moder holdt hus og fødte sine mange børn. Ofte kunne man let iagttage overgangen mellem himmel og hav, men lige så ofte var overgangen diffus. Det var svært at foretrække det ene frem for det andet, for alle de variationer der bød sig til var smukke på hver sin måde. Som en gudinde der beder en mand vælge en af sine tusinde døtre til hustru, og hvor han gang på gang må revidere sit valg, fordi skønhed har tusinde ansigter. Ser det ud som konkurrence, er det i hvert fald en godmodig og legende konkurrence, hvor det gælder om at fastholde bejlerens stressede og forvirrede blik længst muligt. Konkurrencen kan ikke bestå i andet, for ingen er smukkest eller skønnest. Illusionen ligger i det faktum, at man altid tror, den man kigger på lige nu, er den smukkeste. Fantasien levner ikke andre muligheder, kun erfaringen får til sidst een til at indse, at de alle er lige smukke på hver sin måde.

En lille hvid prik som pludselig viser sig at være en bølge på afveje, eller en lille hvid prik, som tilsyneladende ikke forandrer sig og som sagtens kan være et skib, øjnes med mellemrum, men uanset hvad den lille hvide prik repræsenterer, er den god at fæstne blikket på. Og det giver havet mulighed for at berette sin historie og synge om den evige visdom, så sjælen får rigtigt fat i det. Havet udtrykker sig altid både i ord og musik, og er i virkeligheden verdens største symfoniorkester.

Han kiggede en stund mod brændingen og forestillede sig smilende, at den skumfødte Venus pludselig dukkede op, vinkede og gjorde tegn til ham om at komme hende i møde. Så rømmede han sig modent, fæstnede blikket i horisonten igen og blev atter universel i sit sind.

Det var blevet aften, og fuldmånen spejlede sig i havet. Tydeligere og tydeligere blev den, og kraftigere og kraftigere føltes dens magnetisme. Afspejlingen i havet blev brudt af bølger og krusninger men holdt sig, i det store hele, stabilt som en amerikansk highway, anlagt efter lineal. Så, uden varsel, løb en grøn, fosforagtig ild hen over havet. Som grønt nordlys der brugte bølgerne som dansegulv, og så æterisk som tankebilleder af flyvende sommerfugle.

En fin lille hånd gled ind i hans på en naturlig og kærlig måde. Det var ikke nødvendigt at tænke over dette. Han rejste sig med en vidunderlig lethed og gled sammen med sin ledsager ud ad månens afspejling i havet og videre i retning mod månen. Mon det er den skumfødte Venus som har rakt mig sin hånd, tænkte han hurtigt men følte så, at det ikke var relevant at fundere nærmere over. Dette var for smukt til tanker, og måtte finde sted i et tidløse nu.

De gled ud af månens gyldne afspejling, så let som morilden han havde iagttaget før, og han bemærkede, at en lille flok delfiner legede omkring dem. Marsvin, tænkte han, endelig ser jeg dem,

og de opfører sig jo, som de delfiner jeg kender fra tv. Så steg de brat opad, højere og højere. Nu gik det så hurtigt, at han var ved at miste bevidstheden, og han nåede lige at ane jordens krumning, før alt forsvandt.

Langt borte fra hørtes stemmer. Der var en pludren som fra et festlokale Han følte sig desorienteret og prøvede at få hold på situationen, men det kom lidt efter lidt helt af sig selv. Han så sig omkring og opdagede, at han var omgivet af vand overalt. Hvordan mon jeg kan trække vejret, tænkte han, men det var der ingen problemer med. Hans ledsager holdt ham stadig i hånden, pegede på en imponerende skikkelse som havde et kæmpestort skæg og en trefork i hænderne. Det er min far, sagde hun, han er konge i vort rige, og du er blevet inviteret, fordi vore hellige delfiner opsnappede din længselsfulde kalden. Da dine følelser ramte den fjerde revle, gjorde du dig fortjent til at deltage i vores fest som altid finder sted ved fuldmåne. Når du vender tilbage, sidder du igen i klitten, og du husker det hele. Men lad være med at fortælle nogen om det, for de er ikke i stand til at tro på dig, og så gør de i stedet nar af dig. Nyd det nu og glæd dig over det, du får lov at opleve her ved denne fest, for det er ubeskriveligt, hvilket også gør det alt for vanskeligt for dig at beskrive på en plausibel måde.

Men gem det i dit hjerte, og du vil sublimere brændstof nok til at nå dit mål som er ved den syvende revle. Herefter vil vi alle være uadskillelige.

The fourth reef

As he sat there, high up in the dune half buried in the sand adorned with lyme grass here and there, he had a wonderful view over the sea. No trees, no lampposts and no houses stood in the way.

He was able to drink the view, exactly as it was. A more organic and spiritual experience would be hard to find. The tourist season was over, and he could have it all to himself. The beach was not filled with piles of litter, interfering with the mental purity he felt both inside, outside, from above and beneath.

He mostly gazed on the horizon: the maternal home of all adventures, a mother giving birth to her many children. You could often observe the transistion between the sky and the sea, but just as often the transistion became diffuse. It was difficult preferring one from the other, as all variations presenting themselves were beautiful in their own way. Much like a goddess asking a man to choose a wife from one of her thousands of daugthers, time after time forcing him to reconsider the final choice, as beauty has a thousand faces. If it resembles a competition, at least it is a good-natured and playful one, trying to maintain the stressed and confused glance of the suitor for as long as possible.

The competition has no other option, because no one is the most beautiful or gorgeous. The illusion lies in the fact, that the one you look at right now, is the most beautiful. The imagination leaves no other possibilities, only experience will finally make you realize that they are all equally beautiful, each in their own way.

A small, white dot suddenly turning out to be a wave on the wrong track, or a small, white dot apparently not changing – and might as well being a ship – is to be seen on and off. Regardless of the meaning represented by this small, white dot, it feels good to look at. And the sea has the opportunity of telling its story, singing about the eternal wisdom, really making the soul comprehend. The sea always expresses itself in both words and music, and is in fact the greatest symphonic orchestra in the world.

He looked towards the surf for a while, smiling imagining the foam-born Venus suddenly appearing, waving and motioning him to come and meet her. Then he cleared his throat in a mature way, gazed on the horizon again and returned to the universal state of mind.

Evening had come and the full moon was reflected in the sea. Clearer and clearer it became, and more and more intensely its magnetism was felt. The reflection in the sea was broken by waves and ripples, but on the whole it maintained a stability compared to an American highway, built with complete exacitude. Then, without warning, a green, phosphor-like fire ran across the sea. As green aurora borealis using the waves as a dance floor, and like etheral mental images of flying butterflies.

A small, fine hand slipped into his in a natural and loving way. It was not necessary giving it another thought. He rose with a wonderful lightness along with his companion heading for the reflections of the moon in the sea and directly towards the moon. I wonder if she is the foam-born Venus reaching for my hand, he swiftly thought, realizing the irrelevance of the question. This experience was way too beautiful to speculate about and had to be met in the timeless now.

They drifted out of the golden reflection from the moon, just as easily as the phosphorescence he observed before, and he noticed a herd of dolphins playing around them. Small Danish dolphins, he thought, finally I get to see them, and they behave exactly like the dolphins I know from the TV.

Then they suddenly ascended upwards, higher and higher. Now everything happening so fast, that he was about to lose his consciousness, and he just managed to catch a glimpse of the earth’s curvature, before it all disappeared.

Voices were heard from far away. A babbling as from a banquet room. He felt disoriented and tried to get a grip on the situation, but it came to him little by little – all by itself. He looked around, finding himself surrounded by water everywhere. I wonder how to breathe, he thought, but it was not an issue. His companion was still holding his hand, and she pointed at an impressive stature with a huge beard, holding a trident in his hands. He is my father, she said, king of our kingdom, and you have been invited, because our holy dolphins captured your genuine and longing feelings. When your emotions hit the fourth reef, you earned the right to participate in our feast, always taking place at full moon.

When you return, you will be back in the dune, remembering everything. But do not tell anyone about it, as they would not be capable of believing you – but instead trying to make a fool out of you. Enjoy the moment and appreciate what you are allowed to experience at this feast. It is indescribable, therefore making it too difficult for you to describe in a plausible way.

But keep it in your heart, and you will accumulate enough fuel to reach your goal, being the seventh reef. Afterwards we will all be inseperable.