Oh Buoy, Oh Buoy, Oh Buoy
I love living on Maui. Where else in the world can you walk down a pristine sandy beach and hear the delighted shrieks of young kids as they boogie board on the waves? Where else do you see happy tourists everyday playing paddleball and baking in the sun? Where else can you stop by to say hello to a world-renowned spiritual teacher and author and join him for a swim, along with twelve or so other people, amongst flower petals strewn in a beautiful turquoise ocean?
Every week (or almost every week, depending on the weather) a group of friends bring Ram Dass down to a beach, so that he can enjoy some time in the ocean. The reason he can’t come under his own steam is because he was left partially paralyzed by a stroke eighteen years ago. Ever since, he’s had the ongoing support from a dedicated group of devotees who care for him. His journey of recovery is inspiring, not just because he has tried almost every therapy imaginable to stay well, but because he has continued to teach and lead retreats year after year, even though he is paralyzed and suffering from brain damage.
Ram Dass, who is now 84, has played a seminal role in American spirituality. His first book, Be Here Now, was a best seller when it came out in 1971. It was an extraordinary, ground-breaking book about yoga, meditation, psychedelic drugs, and meeting his guru, Neem Karoli Baba, in India. These were the years when Ram Dass travelled the world, wearing Indian clothes, a frizzy beard, mala beads, and no shoes, shocking many westerners who had never seen anything like this before. He attracted an eager audience of not-so-straight young Americans. Many, many thousands – in fact, a whole generation – found an entry into the world of spirituality through Ram Dass. His message was – and still is – one of “Love Serve Remember.” Over the years he led countless retreats, wrote more books, shaved his beard, and went back to wearing western clothes. And then the stroke.
Today is a typical beach visit. Ram Dass shows up around 10:30am, along with Mike Crall and Kathleen, who have been bringing him on these swims for years. He’s helped from the car into a wheelchair with big yellow balloon wheels and bright orange arm rests, and rolled down over the sand to a spot where he can overlook the ocean. Soon, a rag-tag group of ten or fifteen people come to hang out with him. Most are in their fifties and sixties. Some have been coming for years; others are here for the first time. My friend Barry arrives with his dog Emma after a six-mile run on the beach, Lilli comes down from Maui Meadows, B and Sher come all the way from Hana. John and Margo have just flown in from Boulder. There are many I don’t know, but everyone is super friendly. There are also a few young, lean and longhaired guys present, who volunteer their time to help Ram Dass on a 24/7 basis.
I go over to say hello. “Ram Dass, it’s so good to see you,” I say with a big grin, kneeling down by his chair. “How are you?” “I’m happy, very happy!” he smiles back, talking in a soft, but clear voice. One result of his stroke was speech aphasia. For someone who loved to tell stories, this was especially challenging. Sometimes it would take him minutes to get a few words out. After years of therapy, he’s come close to regaining normal speech. I reach out and take his hand, giving it a kiss. I love this man. We go back a long way. I first started attending retreats with him 30 years ago; I wrote about him in my book Ultimate Happiness. We never talk much; we just smile and look into each other’s eyes. What else is there to say when the heart is open? My friend Susan comes by with our dog Kamalani, an Australian Shepherd. Ram Dass gives the dog a pet and soon everyone else wants to pet him. It’s a real love fest.
I’ve learned never to underestimate Ram Dass, who could be taken for a kind looking senior citizen wearing aviator sunglasses and a red baseball cap with “Be Here Now” stenciled on top. But he’s much more than that. Much more. When my son Peter came to visit me on Maui recently, he said, “Dad, I want to do three things while I’m here. I want to see Christine and Kenn, I want to see Ron and Ranjana, and I want to see Ram Dass.” I brought him to the beach, on a day like today, and introduced them. They looked into each other’s eyes for minutes. No words were spoken. There was a profound energy exchange between them. Afterwards my son was so high he could barely stand up.
I don’t want to belabor this (and Ram Dass is by no means a saint), but it reminds me of how Jesus, or some other holy man, with 12 or so other people, could show up on a beach, and people might wander by, saying, “Who is that?” And walk on oblivious. What a missed opportunity.
After ten or fifteen minutes, several people come up and help him get him ready for his swim. His shirt comes off. I can see the pale white skin of his chest, mottled and fleshy. His ankles are swollen. There is a nasty black mark on his foot from where he got burned a few weeks ago. I can’t believe it. His body is shot to shit, but he still shows up. I hope I have the courage to do that when I’m 84.
They help him put on his wet suit top and floatation vest. Then, looking resplendent, and with a big smile on his face, they wheel him down to the water. Three or four people roll him in, and once he’s afloat, they take away the chair. Ram Dass starts making small strokes on his back using webbed gloves, while Mike tows him along by the vest. Everyone else wades into the water, a motley crew of grinning grown ups, looking like they’ve all been drinking joy juice. One person throws pink hibiscus and colorful flower petals into the water. We all make our way out to the buoy, about 150 yards off shore. Some are talking, others, including young Narayan, a happy boy of about six, are throwing a spongy ball back and forth.
When we reach the buoy, Ram Dass places his webbed glove on it. “Oh buoy, oh buoy, oh buoy,” he calls out. Everyone responds, “Oh buoy, oh buoy, oh buoy,” with big smiles on their faces. Call and response. “Oh buoy, oh buoy, oh buoy.” Then it changes to “Oh joy, oh joy, oh joy.” We all tread water and celebrate in this playful ritual. Then we’ll often have a few minutes of silence, before making our way back to shore.
This simple little chant has become my mantra whenever I’m down, bringing a smile to my heart. I’m so grateful to Ram Dass for all that he’s given me over the years. It’s bittersweet knowing that this swim ritual will not go on forever. But, as with everything, it’s a reminder of what he’s been telling us all along: Be Here Now.