Dolphins at Sunrise: Morning Magic on the Water
There’s something about being near the ocean that softens me. It’s as if the tides themselves breathe for me—slow, steady, and reassuring. During a recent Sacred Tropical Re-Treat in Mexico, hosted by my dear friend Vireo Karvonen at the enchanting Villa Amor, I found myself slipping easily into that nourishing rhythm each morning. This little boutique hotel, lovingly run by a couple from Vancouver, felt like stepping into a dream where time expanded and nature offered its quiet blessings.
Most days began before the rest of the world stirred. My two friends would head out on their stand-up paddleboards while I settled into my familiar place in a kayak. Together, we pushed off from shore just as the horizon began its slow transformation, the faintest hint of colour brushing the edge of the sky. The air was warm, and the only sound was the occasional fishing boat humming in the distance.
As we glided farther out, the soft wash of lavender and rose deepened. Then, as if someone gently turned up the dimmer, golden light started spilling across the water. There’s a moment—just before the sun fully breaks free—when everything feels suspended. It’s the kind of stillness that reaches deep into the soul and reminds us why we’re alive.
And then… the magic.
One morning, as the sky blazed into full sunrise, we noticed movement farther out—faint ripples that didn’t belong to the waves. Five dolphins, their silhouettes unmistakable. We paddled gently toward them, stopping a respectful distance away to float and hope—quietly praying they might come closer.
They did.
With effortless grace, the dolphins circled once around us, their sleek bodies gliding through the golden morning light. We held our breath, not wanting to disturb the moment, feeling wrapped in something sacred and rare. It was as if the ocean itself had opened a small doorway into wonder, allowing us to peek inside.
When they eventually slipped away, we lingered just a little longer before turning toward shore. The sun was fully up now, warming our backs as we paddled in, to join the others gathering on the sand.
There, barefoot on the beach, we moved through a gentle session of goddess Qi gong—breathing, grounding, and preparing our hearts for another day of sisterhood connection. I'll have more on that to come.
Even now, I can close my eyes and return to that morning: the shimmer of golden water, the hush of the ocean, the quiet joy of sharing magic with friends. It’s a memory that will stay with me, a reminder that beauty often arrives when we slow down enough to let it find us.
By Joanne Neweduk
